


Love's not the way to treat a friend.

by NotSafeForWork



Series: Love's not the way to treat a friend [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 33,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSafeForWork/pseuds/NotSafeForWork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The original prompt asked for a Male Hawke who dumped Anders after sex, and then regretted it when Anders moved on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting dumped...sucks

**Author's Note:**

> This M!Hawke is a narcissist, and there will be Fenders!
> 
> The inspiration for the title of this fic is from a Richard Brautigan poem of the same name, because when I watched the youtube video of Hawke dumping Anders (which I could never do in game) I was reminded of this verse:
> 
> Love’s not the way to treat a friend.  
> There are so many better things for you  
> than to see your feelings sold  
> as magic lanterns to somebody whose body  
> casts no light

The worst thing about being dumped wasn’t the loneliness, or the sexual frustration, or the crushing end of a cherished and secret dream-those were all things Anders was used to. The worst part was the shame he felt at being such a fool. Foolish for misjudging something…someone so _badly._

Maker’s balls-he had told Hawke he _loved_ him. He had never said that to anyone but Karl, never thought he would say it to anyone again. He had fought against his feelings for Hawke, but finally…finally, when he felt like he would burst if he held it in any longer, he had nerved up and said it. And what was his precious Hawke’s response?

 _You just weren’t that good._

 _Weren’t that good!_ To him, of all people! Never mind that that he had basically laid his heart at the warrior’s feet, only to have it stomped flat by a steel shod foot; to get told that he was basically a lousy lay in the process? It was unacceptable!

He had bedded enough people over the years to qualify to give _lessons._ He got propositioned every time he went into the Blooming Rose because people _recognized_ that he could be a professional. _Isabela_ remembered him for his technique. He had, at one time, been a bonafide _slut!_ _Weren’t that good indeed!_

In a distant part of his mind he could feel the spirit’s displeasure that he was so outraged over something Justice thought was irrelevant. He didn’t care. Justice had disapproved of his attraction to Hawke from the beginning and he was not in the mood for any “I told you sos”.

But having the spirit of Justice residing in your head made it difficult to lie to yourself, so he had to admit that even though his pride was insulted, the feeling of being a fool really was the worst thing. He had known that Hawke could be a hard man, that he was always looking out for himself. Anders had always found excuses or a justification for his behavior in his head. Now he was forced to admit he had been fooling himself.

When the warrior had slept with Isabella, he hadn’t blamed him. She had practically climbed into Hawke’s lap after their first meeting, and they had seemed to have an agreement that it was nothing more than sex.

When Hawke had slept with Fenris he couldn’t blame him for that either, although that had stung a bit more. The broody elf was _gorgeous,_ if a complete beast, and Hawke had the sense to keep it to a one night fling.

Now that he had been reduced to a one night fling he was starting to see things in a different light. And not a flattering light either. Hawke had used him, just like he had used the others.

Since getting drunk wasn’t really an option anymore, and he had been avoiding anything to do with the mage cause since the “incident” with Ella, the only thing left for him to do was throw himself into his work at the clinic. So for a few weeks he didn’t even venture out of Darktown except to restock his potions and supplies.

The end of one particularly long day found him in the back of the clinic washing bloodstains and worse out of the few linens he had. He was bent over a small washtub and wishing madly that someone had created a cleaning spell when a deep voice almost made him fall forward into the wash.

“Varric was wondering if you were ever going to join us for Wicked Grace again. You’re down at least two rounds of drinks.”

Anders sighed to himself, unwilling to look up at the elf who was standing just a few feet away. Of all the people he didn’t want to see right now, the broody Tevinter was right at the top of the list. His mood, which had been teetering back and forth between anger and hurt, now settled firmly on the anger side.

“Oh, just what I needed. Have you come here to gloat?”

The moment of silence stretched out for so long he wondered if the elf had left as quietly as he came, but when he looked up Fenris was standing a short distance away. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot and his gaze was flicking around the room, looking at anything but Anders. If he didn’t know better he’d think the elf was nervous. Finally Fenris looked at him as he rumbled out his answer.

“No.”

“Well, I’m glad you took the time to craft that response. Your eloquence is stunning, really.”

The Tevinter flushed and looked away again. Anders expected a sharp reply, but when the elf spoke again his voice lacked its customary bite.

“I came here to tell you…even a mage does not deserve to be treated the way Hawke treated you.”

The words sparked an even greater fury in him. He didn’t know what this was about, but the last thing he needed was the broody elf’s half-assed pity.

“Oh, even a mage, is it? We deserve whatever other torture comes our way, but this is just a step too far?”

Fenris flushed even more, shaking his head and taking a half step towards him.

“That is not…I meant that…”

Anders had risen to his feet, grateful for the inches of height he had over the elf as he moved closer to him. He snarled right into the Tevinter’s face.

“You can just cram it, you mage-hating hypocrite! You’re offering me pity now, when you said I deserved to be Tranquil?”

Standing just a foot away, he couldn’t miss the look of shock that flashed through those green eyes.

“ _Venhedis_ mage, I never said that I wanted _you_ to be Tranquil!”

“You bloody liar! When we were talking about Karl and I said no mage deserved that fate, you said that some mages do. And you said it in that snide voice of yours, so you obviously meant me.”

He watched the familiar scowl settle onto the elf’s face as the warrior flung his arms out in frustration.

“Idiot! I didn’t mean you, I meant _Danarius and Hadriana_. You know, the two mages who made my life a misery? Am I not allowed revenge fantasies too?”

Anders wasn’t in the mood to process that. In fact, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the elf at all. He turned his back and knelt down in front of the wash tub again, saying dismissively as he did,

“If you have nothing else to bother me about you should just go.”

He could only handle staying quiet for a few minutes, but when he turned back to say something else the elf was already gone. The empty clinic was just as gloomy as it was before, with no sound except the dripping ceiling and the background murmur of Darktown. His anger drained out of him, leaving him feeling oddly flat and depressed as he muttered to himself,

“Well, that was... weird.”


	2. Fenris is a poor communicator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris wished he could get the words to come out right.

Fenris stalked angrily all the way back up from Darktown to Hightown, clenching and unclenching his fists as he went. The part of him that was always alert for an attack noticed the residents scrambling to get out of his way, but he was so lost in his thoughts it barely registered.

What had he been thinking? He couldn’t talk to Anders on the best of days and he was certainly not equipped to offer comfort to anyone. He just couldn’t understand why, when it came to communicating, he was so _inept._ When he put the words together in his head it sounded decent, but the words that he thought were never the ones he could push out past his lips.

 _Anders, I know we have had our differences, and you know of my distrust for mages in general, but from what I know of you as a person I think you deserve better. What Hawke did and said was cruel and the fault lies in him, not in you._

That would have been a good thing to say; something to give the healer a little comfort and dignity. Instead he had said, well…what he had said. And the fact that Anders had spent the last year or more believing he wanted him to be Tranquil just proved that he _never_ got the words out the way he meant them.

Perhaps Anders was right, he really was no better than a wild dog.

Once Fenris was back at the manor again he took solace in a bottle of cheap wine he had picked up from Corff. He still wasn’t sure what had possessed him out seek out the healer in the first place. After his night with Hawke, the warrior had told him he didn’t want more than one night, and Fenris had felt that was for the best. Hawke had...used him rather roughly and it had reminded him of things he would rather forget. That on top of gaining and then losing his memories had been just too much to deal with.

Afterward he had kept Hawke’s crest and the scarf the warrior had bound him with for reasons that weren’t clear even to himself. Perhaps as a reminder that the world would always treat him as he deserved. Perhaps, and this worried him, it was natural to him to want some mark of servitude.

Whatever the reason, he had worn them even as Hawke flirted with the healer right in front of him. Hawke was never discreet in his pursuits. In fact, he, Varric and Isabela had all been _right there_ when the warrior had asked Anders to come to his house. That night Fenris had gone back to his manor with a sick feeling in his stomach; anger and jealousy keeping him pacing the floor all night.

The next evening Hawke had come into the Hanged Man for Wicked Grace without the healer at his side. As Varric was dealing the cards, Fenris overheard Hawke laughing to Isabela about how Anders had confessed his love for him.

“I had to tell him that he just wasn’t that good. You should have seen the look on his face! I think I may have broken his heart a little. I would have thought he have been toughened up by now, with all he’s been through.”

Varric looked a little ill at those words, and Fenris heard a definite thread of sympathy in Isabela’s voice when she answered.

“Oh, poor fellow. Love will bite you in the ass every time.”

Fenris had excused himself shortly after that, barely able to contain his rage. If he had been angry the night before he was positively _murderous_ that night. What kind of man was Hawke, to treat people this way? Love might be foolish, and it was certainly something he had no experience with, but surely only a monster would fling it back into someone’s face that way.

As soon as he got back to the manor that night the red scarf had gone into the fire and the crest had gone sailing into a pile of rubbish. He had avoided Hawke for a few days afterward, and when he did agree to accompany him again he secretly relished the look of displeasure on the warrior’s face when he noticed the missing scarf.

In the weeks after that Anders had not left his clinic and Fenris had felt…well, not worried certainly. After all, they weren’t _friends._ But he had felt a strange sympathy for the healer, and the notion of going to offer a few words of comfort had nagged at him until he could ignore it no longer.

That had really worked out well, hadn’t it?

Fenris took another swallow from the bottle he held in his hands, frowning at the vinegary taste. He really needed to stop buying wine from that flea pit. Once again his mind wandered back over everything that had been said between himself and the healer, until he shook his head in aggravation at himself. When had that blasted mage started taking up so much space in his thoughts?

His arm flung out, almost of its own volition, and he smashed the bottle against the wall. He harrumphed to himself as he watched the watery drink run quickly down the wall. No legs at all. Even for venting his anger the cheap stuff was disappointing.

No solace in being drunk tonight then. With a last frustrated sigh at himself he decided he might as well call this day a loss and turn in.


	3. The hazing was a bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders joins the club

By the time his last patient had left the next day, Anders felt like he could face the rest of the group over cards at the Hanged Man. He knew that he would have to bear up under some pitying looks, but he would have to face that sooner or later. At least after talking to Fenris he felt confident that no one was going to outright rub his face in it.

In fact, after he had time to think it through, the elf’s visit had been oddly heartening. For one, it was good to know that even someone that he thought blindly hated him could still take his side over Hawke’s. He’d never thought that would happen with Fenris. Which was the second heartening thing… it was possible the Tevinter didn’t hate him quite as much as he thought.

He’d been assuming that Fenris wanted to see him made Tranquil ever since they had that conversation, and the thought that the elf had hated him that much had fueled a lot of his own dislike. Granted he still thought the elf was unreasonable about the templars and mage freedom, but he certainly couldn’t begrudge anyone their revenge fantasies when he’d indulged in a few of his own.

He could feel Justice’s approval at the direction his thoughts were taking and he grimaced. He and the spirit had never seen eye to eye regarding the ex-slave. All the spirit saw when he looked at Fenris was a life of injustice gift-wrapped in lyrium. So Anders' changing views on both Hawke and Fenris were generating a lot of told-you-so attitude from the presence in his head.

By the time he had cleaned himself up and made his way to the tavern most of the gang were already gathered around the table in Varric’s suite. The first person he saw was Hawke who, despite the fact that Varric was technically the host, always sat at the head of the table facing the door. He looked up as Anders got to the doorway and gave him that familiar cheeky grin. In spite of everything Anders felt a little flutter in his stomach and he hated himself for it.

Everyone looked over and greeted him just as if nothing were different, but things _were_ different and it was obvious just from the seating arrangements.

Varric and Isabella were seated opposite each other in the middle of the table, which was normal for them since they took turns dealing and it was easier from there. Merrill was seated at the far end from Hawke, because she was the only one of the party besides Sebastian who wasn’t too paranoid to sit with her back to the door. Sebastian himself was seated to Hawke’s left as always, but there was an empty spot to his right.

Previously whoever got there first out of Fenris and Anders would be sitting in that spot. Even after whatever had happened that night between the ex-slave and the warrior, Fenris had still always sat near him if possible. Tonight however, he looked quite comfortable sitting between Varric and Merrill.

That left Anders to choose between the open seat next to Hawke, or the spot between Isabella and Merrill. He held the warrior’s gaze as he deliberately sat down between the pirate and the little blood mage, so he didn’t miss the slight narrowing of eyes and tightening of the jaw that showed Hawke was not happy with his choice. But the warrior noticed him noticing and smirked meaningfully at him. Anders flushed and looked away, suddenly not sure if he was ready for this.

Even as he thought that he felt a hand on his leg give him a pat and then a reassuring squeeze. Startled, he turned to the pirate in time to see her give him a wink before she lifted her hand. Anders straightened in his seat and faced the table to find Fenris looking at him. The white-haired elf was already wearing the look of bland indifference he always put on for card games, but there was a certain, unaccustomed warmth in those moss green eyes as he gave the healer a little nod of acknowledgement.

Rather abruptly Anders felt his spirits lift as a small smile crept onto his face for the first time in weeks. Apparently he had just been indoctrinated into the fucked-and-dumped-by-Hawke club. The hazing had been a bitch, but at least the members were all really good-looking. Picking his cards up from the table, he turned his attention to figuring out what to do with the hand he was dealt.


	4. Fenris finally says what he means

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris-2, Hawke-0

Although Fenris would never admit it out loud, there was a certain rightness to having the healer back in the party. Hawke’s preferred group had always included Fenris, Anders, and either Varric or Isabella if not both. After feeling his absence for so long Fenris had to concede that Anders was a talented healer. He was also very precise with his fireball spell; unlike Merrill, who had managed to zap Fenris and Hawke with lighting three times in the past two months. He swore there was still a weird metallic taste in the back of his throat from the last time, and the thought of it brought a scowl to his face.

Hawke was walking beside him, and he must have been looking at his face because he said loud enough for the others to hear,

“Oh, come now Fenris, it isn’t so bad having Anders with us again, is it?”

Fenris sighed to himself. Hawke had taken to throwing out these needling little remarks designed to provoke bickering between the mage and the lyrium elf. By some unspoken agreement, the two of them had decided not to oblige. So Fenris made a point of also speaking loudly enough for the whole group to hear,

“Actually Hawke, I was just thinking that I prefer the healer to some idiot blood mage who uses us as lightning rods.”

Hawke looked a little disgruntled at that and said nothing more, dropping back to walk beside Varric.

They were searching for a lost quanari patrol along the Wounded Coast. Once they found the bodies Hawke had wanted to go further south along the path to see if the old mercenary camp was still abandoned. So of course that meant they ended up fighting alongside a guard patrol that was trapped by a large gang of Raiders. It _was_ Tuesday, after all.

The fight went pretty much as all their fights did, with Hawke and Fenris sweeping out in front along with the guards, and Anders and Varric hanging back to shoot and cast at a distance. At one point he found himself facing one of the raiders, the two blades in his hands showing that he was a rogue. One was a wickedly curved dagger while the other was a long, narrow, and very pointy blade that was obviously designed for punching through armor. Both blades were coated in a dark, oily residue.

Fenris lunged toward the raider, sweeping his blade in front of him, but with a flip and a puff of smoke the rogue disappeared, drawing a frustrated growl out of him. He _hated_ it when they did that.

A shout from Varric drew his attention, and he turned to see that the dwarf and the healer were backed against the rocks by three of the fighters. Fenris was over there in a flash of blue, cutting through the raiders with one enormous blow. Two fell immediately, but one was still standing and Fenris was just finishing him off with the backswing when he felt a blade punch through his armor and into his side.

Quick as thought he activated his markings, whirling around to behead the rogue in one smooth motion. The damage was already done however; he could feel from the burn and the blood soaking his leathers that this was no light wound.

He steeled himself to ignore it until the battle was over. There were only a few raiders left, and he moved swiftly to help Hawke finish them off. Once Hawke had spoken to the guard and had started looting the bodies he allowed himself to sink down onto a nearby rock, hand pressed against his side. The burning sensation was spreading up his side and down his leg, and it was getting harder to remain upright.

He heard Varric whistle and then call out to Anders,

“Shit, Broody’s got a big hole in his side, and he’s looking pretty green over here!”

He slid down the rock until he was mostly lying on the ground with just his head propped up. Anders knelt over him, pulling him so he was flat on the ground and then moving to unbuckle his armor, and almost automatically he started to snarl at the mage not to touch him when Hawke said peevishly,

“Careful there Anders, Fenris doesn’t like to be touched.”

The healer didn’t pause in what he was doing as he replied sarcastically,

“Yes Hawke, I’ve met Fenris. But I’m sure he’d like being dead even less than being touched.”

He didn’t know what demon of perversity possessed him, but he heard himself rasp out,

“Let the healer do what he must. Besides, unlike some, _he_ has always had a gentle touch.”

He had a moment to enjoy the completely pissed off expression on Hawke’s face and the surprised one on Ander’s before his vision unfocused. His last thought was satisfaction that he had gotten the words out just as he wanted before he slid off into the darkness.


	5. Always listen to Isabela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders heals Fenris, and takes a moment to ogle the elf.

Anders knelt at the elf’s side, chewing his lip worriedly. He had used up all his mana to stop the bleeding, and to contain the effects of the poison, but it wasn’t enough to knit the flesh back together and it would probably take more than just magic to cure the poison altogether.

He stood up wearily and turned to Varric and Hawke.

“We have to get him back to my clinic. I need some time to regain my mana so I can finish healing that cut, and I need some sort of antidote for the poison so we’d better move him quickly.”

The three of them spent a few clumsy minutes trying to figure out how to carry him. He was heavier than he looked, and between Anders tiredness and the difference in height between Varric and Hawke there was no feasible way to do it.

Finally Hawke huffed in irritation and just slung him up over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Anders winced, thinking of the additional tearing that was probably doing to the wound. At least the elf was too out of it to feel pain right now. Hawke started back toward the city, leaving the dwarf and Anders to heft Fenris’ greatsword between them like a log.

It was full dark before they made it back to Kirkwall, and even later by the time the warrior finally dumped Fenris onto one of the cots in the clinic. This time both Anders and Varric winced as the elf’s body bounced onto the creaking bed. Hawke rolled his eyes at them and then headed for the door, calling out over his shoulder as he went.

“I trust that you’ll see to him. I told Sebastian to come over for dinner tonight and I’m already late.”

Varric shook his head as he turned back to the healer,

“What do you need to fix him up Blondie? I’ll see what I can get out of Tomwise.”

While Anders described some things he thought would be useful the dwarf gathered up the damaged parts of Fenris’ armor and headed out. Anders went to gather some cleaning implements and a lyrium potion and then bent to work on cleaning the cut.

About an hour later he had gotten the wound completely cleaned, and had used his magic to knit the flesh neatly back together. He didn’t even think there would be a scar, and he took a moment to admire his handiwork.

Fenris had remained unconscious the whole time, probably from some combination of the poison and his magic. Although he had healed the elf on the battlefield many times, he had never had the opportunity to see him so still and so, well…undressed.

Lying there in nothing but those skin tight leggings he was quite the eyeful. With his white hair tousled just so against the pillow, and his face completely relaxed, he was really too pretty to be believed. The lyrium markings outlined and enhanced the perfect musculature of his chest, arms and abdomen.

Anders had always had kind of a thing for burly, warrior types; that was part of why he’d always found Hawke so attractive. Hawke was all broad chest and bulky arms, much like his Mabari. Fenris on the other hand was much more catlike, everything sleek but oh, so powerful. In fact…and Anders had to smile at this thought, with his tan skin and white markings, he was a bit like a tabby cat.

His fingers twitched against the sudden urge to rub behind those pointy ears. Maker, what _was_ he thinking? Fenris was more tiger than tabby, and a tiger that would likely rip his heart out if he caught him gawking at his naked chest. Even as he went to pull the sheet up a sudden voice made him jump in surprise.

“Oh, don’t spoil the fun sweet thing! He is just delicious to look at isn’t he? We should tell Varric to never, ever give his armor back. Although…I do like those spikes. Hmm, what to do?”

He turned to see Isabela standing behind him, a couple of bottles in her hand. She held them out to him as she continued talking,

“Varric said Tomwise didn’t have what you needed so I got this from Martin.”

He took them from her and set them on a nearby shelf, uncorking and sniffing each one.

“He will be okay, won’t he?”

Anders quirked his brow at her,

“Why Isabela, is that genuine concern I hear? What will become of your reputation?”

“Well, you know I would hate to see such prettiness leave the world, especially before I got a taste.”

He snorted at her and rolled his eyes as he carefully poured a dark liquid out of one of the bottle into a flask.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him leaving this world; but he hasn’t been interested in letting you have a _taste_ so far.”

She gave a throaty chuckle and headed for the door while he grabbed a different bottle.

“Yes, it does seem more and more likely that he’d rather give a taste to a certain apostate, doesn’t it? Be _gentle_ with him, sweet thing.”

Before he could come up with a tart response she was gone. Shrugging off her words, he continued mixing until he was satisfied with his concoction. Then he went over to the bed, noticing that Fenris had finally opened his eyes and was looking around in confusion. His deep voice was even raspier than normal when he spoke.

“Where…I thought I heard…Isabela?”

Anders slipped his arm beneath the elf’s shoulders, lifting him just enough so that he could drink from the flask without spilling.

“Here drink this; it’ll neutralize the poison in your blood. Yes, Isabela was here, she’s the one who brought you the antidote. I’m starting to think that girl cares a lot more about people than she lets on. Who knows, maybe seeing people clearly is one of the benefits of being in the fucked-and-dumped-by-Hawke-club.”

Dark brows pulled together in puzzlement over clouded green eyes.

“The…what?”

Anders laughed softly and held the flask to his lips.

“Never mind, just drink this and then try and get some real sleep.”

Fenris gulped the drink down and pulled a face, dropping back against the pillows and closing his eyes.

“It tastes like the swill they serve at the Hanged Man.”

Anders found himself smiling with something like affection at the grumpy elf.

“Snob. Not everything can be your high class wine.”

The sound of deep, even breathing told him Fenris was already asleep. Deciding he would try and get some sleep too he headed back into his little room, leaving the door open just in case the elf needed him.


	6. Anders' terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice or no Justice, sometimes a healer needs a drink.

The thing about developing a tolerance for loneliness was that it was easily lost, and once lost, it took a long time to build the tolerance back up again.

At least, that’s how Anders was feeling a couple of days after Fenris had recovered enough to go back to his manor. Even though the elf had only stayed in the clinic for two days, the healer seemed to have grown used to him in that short time. Although Fenris didn’t say much, he had given Anders someone to talk to and when he did speak he could be surprisingly insightful.

Except when it came to the subject of mages, of course. Fenris stubbornly insisted that that mages in general had too much power and too little self control not to need someone watching over them. But Anders found he couldn’t hate him for that reason alone anymore. Fenris at least had some justification for thinking that way. Hawke had always supported the templars, to the point of letting his sister be dragged off to the gallows without a protest, and Anders had still fancied himself in love with the man.

Thoughts of Hawke still brought about a little pang in his chest, although these days it was less heartache and more…generalized yearning. Sexual frustration seemed to work the same as loneliness, as far as building up a tolerance and then losing it.

For three years he had lain awake aching for Hawke, but it was as much longing for the kind of partnership he had with Karl as it was about sex. But although it hadn’t seemed to satisfy the warrior, the night he had spent with Hawke had awakened his urges to a level he hadn’t felt since he was a much younger man.

Lately he had been having wild, sensual dreams and waking up with his sheets stained. Surprisingly, those dreams had featured a certain lyrium-enhanced elf just as often as Hawke. Maybe not so surprisingly, he thought bitterly, since he seemed to have no sense at all when it came to these things.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a man and woman carrying a blanket-wrapped child into the clinic. They were dressed as poorly as most Darktown residents, and by the man’s look of grim resignation and the woman’s tear streaked face, Anders could guess that there was something very wrong with the child.

The man introduced himself as Viktor, his wife as Meera and his son as Jerrick. He explained that their son had always been sickly since birth and no healer had ever been able to do anything about it. But now he had picked up one of the illnesses that lurked in the damp of the undercity, and he was failing rapidly.

Anders motioned them to set the boy on the exam table while he washed his hands, and then he carefully unwrapped the blanket so he could get his first look at his patient. Once he did it felt as if his heart was being squeezed in his chest and he just knew that this was going to be a very bad day.

The enormous eyes sunken deep in that wizened little face could have belonged to a child of five, or a man of eighty. The muscles in his arms and legs were so atrophied they could have never borne his weight. His lips and fingertips were blue and he was breathing in wheezing gulps, the struggle to take in air making his chest so concave it looked like it must be hitting against his back. Anders could tell just from the sound that his lungs were filled with fluid.

While he was examining him, Jerrick looked up at him with a calm, patient gaze that was completely devoid of hope. The healer found himself blinking rapidly, and he had to take a few steadying breaths before he tentatively reached out with his magic.

If Anders had to explain how his healing worked, he would say that it was as if the magic reached out to the healthy parts of the body in order to draw upon it and even copy it over the broken parts. That was how he knit flesh back together, healed bones, cleansed wounds. Now, his magic reached into the boy and there was nothing healthy to draw on. Whatever sickness he had been born with had spread throughout his vital organs and into the depths of his bones.

Anders set his shoulders and threw himself into the act of healing anyway. He was nothing if not stubborn, and he knew he had to at least try. The hours passed as he drained himself of mana over and over, applying poultices to the boys chest each time that he waited to regain some energy. The entire time the man sat nearby comforting his wife, who cried and prayed until she was hoarse. It was no use, his magic had nothing to grasp at and the most it did was make the boy’s breathing a little easier.

Sometime during late afternoon he was applying another poultice when Jerrick coughed weakly a few times and then grew still. Anders had nothing left in him to magically start his breathing again and he stood over the little body, trying to think of something he could say. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and when he looked at Viktor the man gave him a weak smile.

“I know you did your best, we had hoped…but we knew he wasn’t strong.”

Anders wanted to say he was sorry, but before he could speak he was cut off by a shriek and a flurry of hands batting at his face.

 _“You monster!_ You killed my son! I knew we couldn’t trust you, I knew it…”

Viktor grabbed her arms and gave her a little shake, pulling her back away from Anders. He sounded like he was struggling for control but his voice was still patient,

“Meera! We discussed this before we came; we knew how unlikely it was that he would…live.”

The woman pulled away and launched herself at her son’s body, scooping him up in her arms and wailing senselessly. Viktor looked as if he were going to say more, but then just gave the healer a little nod. He put his arms around his wife and steered her out of the clinic. Anders could hear her crying all the way down the stairs, growing fainter and fainter until it was lost in the sounds of the undercity.

He staggered backwards into a chair, sagging forward with his elbows on his knees. Hot drops of water splashed onto his hands, but he didn’t realize he was crying until he blinked and felt the wetness on his face. His magic so rarely ever failed him when he was healing, but when it did it left him devastated.

Anders reached into his head for consolation from his passenger spirit, but Justice had retreated into the recesses of his mind. There were certain things about the mortal world that the spirit couldn’t reconcile, things that seemed to deny whether justice could really exist in this realm. A child who had begun dying the moment he was born was one of them.

Anders rubbed his hand across his face and tried to gather himself, finally standing up on shaky feet. No matter what the spirit thought, tonight he needed a drink.


	7. Be thou drunken ceaselessly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris thinks Anders is cute when he's drunk-but he'd never admit it.

Fenris showed up at the Hanged Man at the usual time, and was surprised to see Varric waiting for him at the top of the stairs. The dwarf motioned to him to move further down the hallway, and then leaned close to say in a low voice,

“Look, Blondie is in a bad way tonight. He showed up a couple of hours ago all broken up over some kid dying in his arms, and then proceeded to get shitfaced. Rivaini and I have had our work cut out just getting him to cheer up.”

He felt a wave of concern for the healer that was becoming all-too-familiar lately. He pushed it to the back of his mind and frowned down at the dwarf,

“And why are you telling _me_ this?”

Varric just gave him a hard stare and a raised eyebrow as he said,

“Really?”

Fenris’ frown deepened but he found he couldn’t hold the dwarf’s gaze, so he turned to look at the wall, as if the woodwork had suddenly become fascinating. Varric just sighed,

“Dammit Broody, you are so stubborn. Just try not to say anything upsetting tonight, okay?”

The elf nodded without looking back at him, and then went on into the suite. Isabela was in the middle of telling Anders an outrageous story, complete with a lot of swearing and rude hand gestures, and the healer seemed to be enjoying himself. Whatever the two rogues had done to lift his mood seemed to be working, because when Fenris walked in Anders looked up with a huge smile.

“Fenris! Isabela was just trying to convince me she’d once had a threesome with King Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden. D’you believe it?”

He could tell from the overly careful way the healer was speaking that he was just on the upright side of being completely tossed. Remembering what the dwarf had said, he sat down across from Anders and shrugged his shoulders.

“With Isabela, anything is possible I suppose. In fact, I’m surprised it was only the three of them”

Anders snorted into his cup while the pirate shot him a pleased grin.

“Actually, they did bring along this red-headed Chantry sister. I thanked the Maker for her that night! Several times, in fact.”

Naturally Sebastian and Hawke chose that moment to walk in. The priest looked scandalized, and opened his mouth as if to say something but then looked as if he’d thought better of it. Fenris wondered if Varric had a word with them too.

Merrill soon joined the group, but the evening didn’t go as their card nights usually did. Generally their two dealers kept everything moving, in spite of the drinking and banter that always occurred. Tonight, the two of them engaged in a competition to see who could tell the most unbelievable story. They soon gave up on cards altogether, and pushed the table back so they could all sit in a semi-circle around the fire and their main “performers.”

Sebastian gave up and left as soon as he realized the jokes were only going to get dirtier, but the rest of them enjoyed themselves enormously. Even Norah stopped by frequently, ostensibly to check on them but really to laugh at their antics. She even managed to bring up a cask of honey-mead, which tasted much better than the stuff Corff passed off as ale.

Despite the fun, Fenris still kept a careful eye on the healer. He wasn’t used to drinking and if he’d been upset enough to start his mood could go sour at any time. But Anders seemed to be genuinely having a good time. The elf studied his face as he guffawed along with the others, thinking that, while he was a handsome man even when he was ragged and tired with circles under his eyes, when he was carefree and smiling like this he was almost…dazzling.

Fenris shook his head at the direction his thoughts were taking. Perhaps _he_ had had too much to drink. As he glanced around at the companions he noticed a speculative look on Hawke’s face as he looked at Anders, and he didn’t like it at all. Luckily, he didn’t seem to be the only who noticed, and as the night wore on he was pleased to find that between himself, Varric and Isabela, Hawke never had a chance to get close to the healer.

That little worry aside, the two rogues had most of the group laughing, and when Isabela started singing drinking songs and Anders joined in even Fenris had to chuckle. And when one of the songs involved an elaborate pantomime where Isabela was the dashing bard and Anders the naive virgin, complete with mincing steps and a high-pitched Orlesian accent, the elf found himself laughing out loud.

During the part when the virgin begged to be rescued, Anders swooped up a handful of cards to use as a fan that he waved in front of his face, batting his eyelashes and sidling up beside the elf. Fenris couldn’t keep from grinning up into his face at the absurdity of his behavior, and by the end of the song most of them were in tears from laughing.

Varric wiped his eyes and tried to catch his breath enough to talk.

“Hey, Broody, I knew you had a sense of humor in there.”

Fenris brought himself under control and looked at the dwarf with a perfectly straight face,

“I told you I wasn’t always serious.”

That set Anders, Merrill and the rogues off on another bout of giggles, but Hawke had apparently decided he’d had enough fun for the night. He stood up and announced that it was late and that he should walk Merrill home since it wasn’t safe for her to be alone.

Varric stood up too, and giving Hawke a sly smirk he said,

“You’re right. In fact, the alienage is so not safe Bianca and I should come along for good measure.”

He insisted despite Hawke’s protests, until finally the warrior gave in. The three of them headed out, leaving Isabela, Anders and Fenris sitting by the fire.

Anders had just polished off another cup of mead, and was listing dangerously in his chair. The pirate looked at him and then grinned at Fenris,

“It’s not safe for him to go home alone either, at least not in this condition. And since I am home, that leaves you to do escort duty. Why don’t you go see if you can scrounge a glass of water from Norah to try and sober him up a bit?”

Somehow Fenris found himself agreeing to this plan, and he returned with the water in time to walk in on Anders and Isabela discussing sex. Of course they were, what else would he expect?

Whatever she had said to the healer just before he walked in had sparked some thought in his mind, because he had sat up and was wagging his finger at her as he slurred,

“See, there. You always shay, say…that about being on top. I’ve wonder..wonder, wonder is a funny word. No, no…I’ve wondered that about you and Hawke. It must’ve been a…a battle in the bedroom,”

Here he waved his arms around in gestures that were apparently meant to suggest sex, or fighting, or maybe both. He caught himself just before he fell out of his chair, and the pirate was laughing so hard she could barely hold her head up,

“Oh sweet thing, you are so much fun this way! I am going to ask your spirit to let you get drunk every night.”

Fenris thrust the mug of water under the healer’s nose while he said to the pirate,

“I am going to see to it he never gets this drunk again.”

Isabela just smirked at him, but Anders ignored the cup and turned his wagging finger on the elf.

“You too…s’never got you and Hawke..what with you…your stuff…Now me. Me.”

He paused significantly, looking at the two of them with the intent seriousness only a really drunk person can achieve.

“I kinda like it…like being… bossed around in the bedroom. Y’know? Big, strong men…know what they want…makes me feel…something. What was I saying?”

At this point Isabela was choking on her own laughter, and when she looked at Fenris’ face she gave up and just fell onto the floor.

Fenris didn’t pay her any attention however. When Anders had said that about…being bossed around, he had a sudden vision of the blonde man, kneeling on Hawke’s bed with his face and shoulders pressed into the mattress and hands bound behind him like his had been. Only instead of Hawke standing behind the healer he saw himself. At that vision he felt a bolt of lust go through him that was so strong his muscles all clenched up and he almost crushed the cup he held in his hand.

Forcing himself to relax, he cleared his throat several time before he could say normally,

“Here, drink this so I can get you home.”

Anders finally took the cup from him and drank it down, while Isabela sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Oh, yes. I do think you need to take him home, and undress him, and tuck him into his bed. He’s too drunk to manage himself, so you’ll probably have to be quite _bossy_.”

Her voice cracked with laughter on the last words and she fell over again. Fenris growled at her and pulled the blond-haired man to his feet, leading him out of the room. As they made their way, carefully, down the stairs he could hear her saying to herself,

“Oh, I am _so_ sad Varric missed that.”


	8. Flowers, Candy, and dead Templars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris really does know the way to a mage's heart.

As soon as they stepped out of the tavern Anders almost pitched forward onto his face, and Fenris had to grab him to keep him from falling. After some awkward positioning, he managed to get the healer’s arm draped over his shoulder but avoiding the spikes, while his arm went around Anders back to hold him up and move him forward.

They managed like that for a couple of blocks, and while Anders was humming the Orlesian drinking song to himself Fenris had a little time to let his thoughts drift.

He could hardly credit the change in his own attitude towards Anders, but he knew at some point he had stopped thinking of him as just another mage, and had started thinking of him as a man. A good man; generous to a fault, with a big heart and a need to help anyone he thought of as worse off than himself.

In fact, the problem with the healer was that he was _too_ good. He assumed everyone else was basically good too, which is why he persisted in this notion of mage freedom. It was how he ended up with a…spirit inside of him. He had thought this Justice was his friend, and had wanted to help him, to his own detriment.

If he had someone looking after him properly, that foolishness would have never happened. Fenris knew it was far too late for Anders to go to the circle. Even if it were a better circle than Kirkwall’s- _and privately he could admit that things weren’t quite right here_ -he would be made Tranquil or killed just because of the spirit he housed.

So, Fenris mused, he needed to be kept safe from the templars _and_ he needed to be saved from himself…

That line of thought was cut short when the healer stumbled, and while trying to right him Fenris somehow managed to get a face full of feathers. As he huffed and batted at the feathers to try and get them away from his face and mouth, Anders broke down in a fit of giggles. He lurched toward the elf, clutching at his arms and talking in a funny, cooing voice,

“Oh, what kind of kitty doesn’t like to play with feathers? Aw, are they bothering you? Who’s my little tabby-elf?”

And before Fenris could respond to _that_ the blonde man took two of his fingers and began tickling gently right underneath the shell of his ear, crooning drunkenly.

 _Fasta Vass._ His eyes almost crossed from the tingling sensation that shot down from his neck to his spine. His first instinct was to crane his head back to expose more of his neck and ear to the man’s touch, but instead he knocked the healer’s hand away. Then of course he had to grab him again before he fell over, Anders giggling softly the whole time.

Once he got them situated and moving again he grumbled at the blonde man,

 _"Venhedis_ Anders, even the blood mage holds her drink better than you.”

They managed to make it through Darktown, and had just reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the clinic when a slight hint of movement in the shadows set all the ex-slave’s “avoid-the-hunters” instincts on alert.

He gently shoved a barely-concious Anders to the side and drew his sword, keeping his eyes trained on the spot he had first noticed. _There_ , in the shadows on the ledge at the top of the stairs, the distinctive glint of torchlight off of shiny armor. Certain they had already been spotted, there was nothing to do but face whatever threat was there. So he roared out,

“You wish to fight?”

In the silence afterward he could hear the sound of swords being drawn. _Only three, he was sure._ He almost snorted in contempt when he clearly heard a _loudly_ whispered conversation,

“Are you certain about this? We weren’t expecting an armed elf.”

“See the feathers? That’s the one we want. He's only an elf and it’s three to two.”

Clumsy and foolish, he thought…and not going to live to learn from their mistakes.

He didn’t want to give them the advantage of higher ground, so before they could move forward he activated his markings and burst up the stairs while calling out,

“Come out and face me!”

Stopping at the top, he saw three templars step forward with their swords drawn. He took their measure in an instant; they were very young, fresh recruits. The two on the right looked arrogant, and the other scared. They probably weren’t even supposed to be here, but thought they could make a name for themselves by catching the infamous apostate of Darktown. It was almost too bad they had to die.

He didn’t give them any more time to collect themselves, but leapt at the scared one, raising his sword up as he jumped and then bringing it down with enough force to cleave his skull in two. _Two left, but they will both attack at once._

Fenris swung to the right, moving his blade in a big enough arc to knock back both their swords. He couldn’t cut through both of their heavy armor at once, so he was going to have to take out one and hope he could withstand one free blow from the other.

He lunged at the one who was closest, trying to maneuver off to the side so that the templar was actually shielding him from his comrade. This one was faster than he expected, circling back so he was beside his fellow and deflecting the first swing. But he wasn’t expecting Fenris to follow through by keeping his blade locked against the other’s with one hand while phasing his first through the breastplate with his other. While the last templar got in a quick slash at his leg, he solidified his arm with a quick twist and crushed the man’s heart.

He pulled out his arm and whirled back, expecting to deflect another blow from the other man and instead finding himself facing his back Anders had come up the stairs with his hands raised to cast a spell, and the templar had faced him to cast a holy smite, stupidly turning his back on the elf. He didn’t waste the advantage, gripping his sword in both hands and driving it up under the edge of his helm into the back of his neck.

He took a moment to look around and make sure they were all quite dead, and that no one else was going to come to their aid. When all was quiet he walked over to the healer, who was swaying dangerously at the top of the steps. Fenris thought he still looked foggy with drink, but he had obviously been aware enough to respond to danger. He guessed that it was as much instinct with Anders as it was for him, especially with templars involved.

When he stopped before the blonde man Anders reached out to him, muttering curses about having his mana depleted. Fenris let him grab his arms, to steady himself, he thought. But then Anders grinned crookedly and said,

“Fenris, you just killed two…a bunch of templars.”

The adrenaline was still racing through his veins from the fight, and having the healer’s face so close to his own wasn’t doing anything to calm his pulse, but he managed to say dryly,

“I am aware of that.”

When the healer leaned in drunkenly for a kiss, he couldn’t pretend he was surprised. What did surprise him was how desperately he wanted that kiss. Anders mouth was hot and sweet with the taste of honey mead, and his lips were deliciously soft. He pulled the taller man against him, with one hand circling the back of his neck and the other arm reaching around his back to hold him tight. He plunged his tongue into the healer’s mouth, and let himself ravish that warm cavern for just a moment before he reluctantly pulled back. Now was not the time.

Anders did not look any closer to sober as he licked his own lips, making an _mmm_ sound as he did. In fact, as his eyes grew more unfocused, he looked like a man about to pass out.

Fenris sighed and eased him into a sitting position on the ground before he fell and hurt himself, and then stood up to consider what to do next.

He had two problems; he had a drunken healer who would probably need to be carried the rest of the way home, and he had three templar bodies that needed to be hidden.

He decided he would do the best he could to hide the bodies for tonight, and then get Varric to help him dispose of them permanently tomorrow. So he took his sword and cut their skirts off, neatly piling up the swords and shields and using the fabric to wrap them up. He tied it all into a bundle with a series of knots. Then he moved the bodies under a nearby pile of rubbish. They would be obvious to the first scavenger who came poking around, but hopefully it would do until the morning.

Then he turned back to Anders, who was now out cold, sitting with his back against the wall. He propped the bundle on top of Anders, and bent to scoop him up, cradling the healer against his chest. It was awkward and with the weight of all that metal even he had a hard time lifting him, but luckily he didn’t have too far to go.

He made it just inside the door of the clinic before he had to tip forward and let the bundle slide off Anders and onto the floor with a clang. Then he carried the healer back to his bed, managing to get him to sit up for just a moment so he could get the coat off his shoulders, and then easing him back onto the mattress so he could take his boots off.

Going back out into the clinic he picked up the bundle, stashing it under a pile of broken crates in the corner. Then he returned to Anders room. The healer was lying exactly as he left him, sprawled on his back and snoring softly. For a long moment Fenris just stood there looking down at him.

As much as he’d like to deny it, he had to admit that he wanted this man. Wanted him badly.

After fighting for so long to keep his freedom from Danarius, it seemed insane to want to get tangled up with another mage. He had sworn that no mage would ever own him and he would never let another one control him. And yet here he was. Was his slavery so ingrained he felt incomplete without a mage to protect, to belong to?

He reached down and brushed a stray lock of hair back from Anders forehead.

Wouldn’t it be different…it would be different if the mage belonged to _him_.

Smiling softly to himself he moved to grab a chair so he could sit outside the door until Anders awoke. He had things to...consider.


	9. Sex threats and hangovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders needs to recover quickly.

Anders would have liked to sleep longer, but the bronto stomping around in his head wouldn’t let him. So he blearily opened his eyes, relieved to see that he was in his own bed, although he had no idea how he got there. His tongue felt like sandpaper, and he wearily rolled over and got to his feet so that he could go get a drink from the cistern in the clinic.

When he pulled open the door he was surprised to be greeted by the watchful green eyes belonging to the elf seated just outside his door. His mind was obviously still swimming in drink, because as the Tevinter looked him over assessingly he thought he might be having another one of _those_ dreams. He shook his head, which did nothing to clear it and cleverly blurted,

“Fenris?”

As if there might be another white-haired, lyrium coated elf sitting on his doorstep.

Fenris rose to his feet while continuing to look him over. The close scrutiny was starting to make him feel a little flustered so he walked over to pour himself a mug of water and give himself something to do. He turned back to say something and was a little unnerved to see the elf had silently followed behind him to stand just a couple of feet away. The Tevinter spoke before he could gather his thoughts.

“If you are feeling unwell, can you not just heal yourself?”

He came a step closer…no, the stealthy, deliberate way he was moving could only be described as stalking. The cat comparison seemed more appropriate than ever, and Anders started to doubt whether or not he was dreaming again. He laughed a little nervously and said,

“Suggesting that I use my magic? Who are you and what have you done with the real Fenris?”

Fenris gave the wry little half smile that had rarely been directed at Anders until recently. Although, it did prompt a sudden burst of memory and he spluttered out,

“Hey, you…you enjoyed yourself last night!”

The elf had been about to take another step but at those words he froze, looking at Anders with a sharpened gaze and a raised eyebrow.

“You remember last night?”

 _What had happened last night?_ Now he was dying to know what it was Fenris thought he had remembered, except…maybe it was better he didn’t know.

“I remember Bela and Varric telling stories and that everyone was laughing, including _you_ , broodypants. I have some unfortunate memory of singing…but after about the third cup of mead it’s pretty much a blank.”

Another measured step and the Tevinter was almost within touching distance. In fact, it might actually be touching distance, since Anders did have long arms. _Stop thinking about touching!_ With the elf standing so close he could see the faint blue shadows under his eyes.

“Were you sitting out here all night?”

A half step, and he was definitely within touching distance, intense gaze never leaving the healers face. His pulse speeding up, Anders cursed the headache that was making it impossible to think, because one clearly needed to have their wits about them when one was being stalked by a Fenris.

“I walked you home, and since you were in no shape to defend yourself I stayed on guard while you slept.”

Now…now he was within kissing distance, if he just…tilted his face up a little and Anders just bent down a tiny bit. The thought was simultaneously thrilling and _terrifying_. He was standing here, not in a dream, thinking about kissing Fenris. A concerned, protective Fenris who was inches away from his face and…waiting for him to say something.

“I don’t need to be guarded; I have been taking care of myself for a long time, you know. I can protect myself.”

For some reason that brought a definite glint of amusement to those beautiful green eyes.

“Hm. We will discuss _that_ later, but first I will allow you to recover.”

Anders had always thought Fenris had a fantastic voice, even when it was snarling at him. But when he spoke this last statement there was a particular…burr to it that he had never heard before. Managing to be both ominous and sexy, it sent the blood from his pounding head straight down to his cock. Before he could actually faint or something equally embarrassing, Fenris gave him that little half smile and stepped back, asking,

“Varric has said you are guarded against templars during the day?”

This new subject caught him off guard, and he took a moment before he replied,

“Well, I know he has contacts down here and people that owe him favors who would bring me warning. And there are those living here in Darktown who have looked out for me before.”

Fenris looked as if he were measuring this information before he nodded seriously and turned to walk towards the door.

“All right. I have…an errand I need to take care of. I _will_ see you later, Anders.”

After he left Anders stood in the same spot for quite some time, just trying to sort through exactly what had happened.

Huh. Bedroom eyes, bedroom voice, getting into his personal space, calling him Anders; it had certainly felt like Fenris was coming on to him, except for that certain dangerous edge. Although, that too was positively Fenris-like…not so much flirting as…issuing sex threats.

That line of thinking was doing nothing to stop all his blood from heading southward. He gathered his magic and let the healing energy wash over him. Get rid of the headache, maybe a nap, definitely a bath. He was looking forward to his next meeting with the elf with a combination of anxiousness and anticipation, but first he needed to recover.


	10. Varric can see through brick walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders lets Hawke get the wrong idea.

After downing a pitcher’s worth of water and using another healing spell on himself, Anders had managed to get rid of the headache and he was considering what to do next. Although it was always twilight in Darktown, he could usually judge what time it was by his own internal clock and the sounds. The stillness told him it was probably still the wee hours of the morning, so it was unlikely any patients would show up soon. He was debating whether to take a bath or a nap first when Varric wandered into the clinic, looking a little worse for wear himself.

Before Anders could ask what he was doing in the clinic so early two more dwarves followed him in, carrying a long box held on poles between them. Varric waved them toward the pile of broken crates, saying,

“He said they were wrapped in fabric under a pile of broken crates, so I’m guessing that’s the one.”

Anders watched in bemusement as the dwarves dug through the crates to pull out a large, bundle of fabric and…metal, judging by the noise. He turned to the dwarf in puzzlement.

“What in Maker’s name is going on? You haven’t been hiding contraband in my clinic, have you?”

Varric gave him a superior look,

“Now why would you think _I_ would ever have anything to do with contraband? And if I did have something to do with it, don’t you think I would have a thousand hidey-holes that are better than your highly-visited clinic?”

“Then what are you doing? And at such a Maker-forsaken hour? Really Varric, I’ve never seen you up and around this early.”

The rogue’s voice took on an exasperated tone.

“Well, blondie, I wouldn’t be up this early except for the fact that your boyfriend dragged me out of bed, insisting that I had to help him clean up the mess he made last night on your behalf.”

Nothing that the dwarf was saying made any sense, and Anders could feel his recently banished headache struggling to come back.

“Varric, _what_ mess are you talking about? And I don’t have a boyfriend.”

The dwarf barked a short laugh and raised one brow at the healer,

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be around a certain broody elf when you tell him that. No, scratch that, I want to be around but I want to be behind a brick wall with a peephole in it.”

“Broody elf…Fenris? My _boyfriend_ …that’s crazy.”

He knew his cheeks were burning but he tried to ignore it…everyone had obviously gone mad. Fenris might have been giving him some hot-eyed looks earlier, but that was it. Why the dwarf would think otherwise was beyond him.

“What mess?”

Varric shook his head, muttering something about “both so damn stubborn” under his breath before he replied.

“Well, it seems that last night while doing the gentlemanly thing and escorting your drunk ass home, Fenris had to kill three templars who were waiting here to catch you. So this morning he came to ask me for help disposing of the evidence, as it were, so that it doesn’t just lead more templars to your door. I thought it was kinda…sweet. In a twisted sort of way, of course.”

Anders took a moment to let that sink in. Fenris…killing templars…for him? Well, he told himself, it didn’t really mean the elf had done it for him. After all, they would have attacked Fenris just for being with an apostate. Unless he had handed him over to them, which obviously he hadn’t…so then, he really had killed templars for him.

That was…astonishing. But it explained a lot about the white-haired elf’s overly-protective attitude this morning. He quickly squashed the warm feelings bubbling up in his chest. It didn’t _mean_ anything, necessarily. He wasn’t going to get all moony-eyed just at the idea of a ferocious, glowing Fenris singlehandedly facing down three templars. Shaking his head to clear it, he noticed Varric was waiting for his reply with a smirk of amusement on his face. When he spoke he thought his own voice sounded weak and unconvincing.

“I’m grateful that he did, of course, but it was just…circumstances. It doesn’t mean he’s my…well, anything.”

The smirk on the dwarf’s face turned into an open grin.

“Circumstances, huh? He was also very insistent that I help you find a new spot for the clinic. The templars are bound to wonder what happened to those recruits, and even if we get rid of the evidence it doesn’t mean a whole company of them won’t be showing up down here eventually. Sounds like our broody friend is interested in your long-term well-being to me.”

Varric gave Anders a pat on the arm.

“I’ve got a few ideas on where we could move the clinic to; we’ll talk later once you get your personal life sorted out.”

Chuckling to himself, the dwarf took his leave. Anders ran a hand along his stubbled jaw and tried to regroup. For some reason, the idea of a Fenris who wanted to take care of him was slightly more nerve-wracking than a Fenris who just wanted to have sex with him. He knew how he felt about the sex thing, assuming _yes, please_ counted as a feeling. He had no idea how to feel about this other, alarming new thing.

The dwarf must be mad. That was really the simplest explanation, and until he heard otherwise from Fenris himself, he was just going to go on that assumption. That having been decided, he set about warming some water for the hip-bath.

~~~

He’d had just enough time to bathe before his patients started trickling in for the day. Nothing major, just the average scrapes and sicknesses that were always to be found in Darktown. Which was a good thing, because he was too distracted to concentrate on anything challenging today.

Sometime in the early afternoon he was surprised to see Hawke walk through his door for the first time since their ill-fated night together. His first thought upon seeing him was disappointment that it wasn’t Fenris. What a strange turn the world had taken, when he would much rather see the broody elf than the warrior he had yearned after for so long.

Hawke was wearing his most deliberately charming, I-am-after-something look, and he walked up to Anders and stopped right in front of him, just a tiny bit too close. The healer felt a wave of weariness, and suddenly wished he had opted for the nap instead of the bath.

“Anders! Let’s go chat in your office.”

Without waiting for a reply he went back to the tiny room that contained Anders cot and the small table he used as a desk. The healer followed him, but stopped in the doorway since he had no desire to be trapped in such a small space with Hawke. He really wanted this conversation to end as quickly as possible, but he couldn’t help but say sarcastically,

“It’s been so long since you’ve been down here, I thought you’d forgotten where the clinic was.”

He regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth, because from the self-satisfied expression on Hawke’s face he knew it was interpreted the wrong way. Sure enough, the big warrior plopped down to sit on his cot while saying smugly,

“Oh, I _knew_ you missed me. In fact, it occurred to me last night that now that we’re past our misunderstanding there really isn’t any reason we can’t still have fun together.”

Anders stared at the warrior’s handsome profile for a long moment, trying to remember what it had felt like to look at him and think he was in love. To think there was something deep and profound moving beneath the charming mask he always wore. But now he knew better. Hawke was for Hawke; he was the center of his own attention and expected it to be that way for everyone else. Even though he knew it was pointless, he couldn’t help but say a little angrily,

“Past our _misunderstanding?_ I said that I loved you and you threw it back in my face. That’s not so much a misunderstanding as it was horribly bad judgment on my part.”

Looking no less smug, Hawke patted the cot as if he expected Anders to sit next to him.

“It _was_ a misunderstanding. You said you loved me, which is great for you, but I’m not ready to commit to anyone. I’m expected to court a noble woman and carry on the name; I can’t do that if I’ve got some apostate hanging all over me. How would it look? Besides, you used to have all sorts of affairs, right? You understand how it is. So there’s really no reason we can’t enjoy each other’s company from time to time.”

Anders didn’t bother to point out that the reason for all the _affairs_ was that mages weren’t allowed to fall in love. Really, he was almost impressed by the absolute gall of this man, and he pointedly didn’t move from his spot in the doorway.

“So you don’t think there’s anything wrong with me being in love with you and you just using me for sex?”

Hawke looked genuinely puzzled by that.

“Why would it be wrong? If I tell you I’m not in love and you adjust your expectations, then where is the harm?”

Reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, Anders took a deep breath and gave up. Hawke was incapable of putting himself in another’s shoes, or of considering someone else feelings.

“Look Hawke, if I were still in love with you, which I am _not_ , then it would be cruel to string me along as if there were hope that your feelings would change. Since I don’t think I am in love with you any longer and I don’t want to sleep with you any more, there really isn’t anything left to say.”

Hawke got to his feet as he said the last words, looking at first confused and then smug again.

“You’re still smarting because I said you weren’t that good aren’t you? You know, I only said that because, what with Isabela talking about your electricity trick, I expected more excitement and less…cuddling.”

At that moment, Anders couldn’t believe he had ever found Hawke charming. Abruptly he was glad that Hawke had visited, because he knew for certain that he was as far over him as he could be. Still, in spite of his irritation, Anders would forever swear that his next words, and how Hawke interpreted them, were _entirely accidental._

“Look, it is probably better if you just go. I have been trying to get a nap in since Fenris left this morning and it’s been a long day.”

Intentional or not, the look of outrage that flashed over the warrior’s face was… _delicious._ He knew at once what Hawke thought he was implying, and while he wouldn’t tell a deliberate lie, he wasn’t going to correct that misassumption either.

“ _Fenris!_ Fenris…spent the night with you? I thought you hated him because he wanted all mages to be made Tranquil?”

“Oh, you see _that_ was a misunderstanding. Once we’d gotten that worked out it turned out we had more in common than we thought.”

Ok, none of that was technically a lie either. He really shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.

“Oh I see. Now you’ve seen Fenris’ greatsword and suddenly I’m just a…a not-so-great-sword?”

Anders almost laughed at the indignation in the warrior’s voice.

“Hawke, you should just avoid innuendo. You’re just not that good at it.”

He barely had time to step back when Hawke stomped past him with a glare. The warrior didn’t even look back at him as he stormed out of the clinic. Once he was gone Anders finally let loose with the laughter he had been holding back. That was really rotten of him, but Maker that felt _good._


	11. Anders' life choices aren't all bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris does what he can to make an honest man out of Anders

All day long the question that nagged at Anders was…why did the elf want _him?_ The healer knew that he was an attractive man and, Hawke’s comments aside, he knew he had a reputation as a skilled lover, but Fenris did not seem the type to choose a lover based on either of those things. In fact, except for whatever had happened with Hawke, Fenris wasn’t the type to choose a lover _at all._

The fact that the white-haired elf would make an exception for him made him feel flattered and _very_ nervous.

By the time Fenris actually showed up, late in the evening, Anders had spent so much time analyzing all the possibilities of this encounter that he was torn between running and hiding from the elf and just jumping him right there in the doorway.

Justice had been no help whatsoever. Normally the spirit thought sex was just a bothersome distraction that humans focused on way too much, but when the sex came in such a pretty lyrium package it seemed that he was very supportive. In fact, Anders knew that some of the _why aren’t we naked yet?_ thoughts were coming directly from the spirit, and that was just…odd.

Fenris was wearing his normal, inscrutable look, which didn’t help the healer in determining how he should behave. So he just said the first thing that came to mind.

“Fenris, fancy seeing you here.”

One dark brow reached skyward as the Tevinter said in his driest tone.

“Yes, I can see how you’d be surprised since I left here this morning and said I would see you later. Very sneaky of me.”

The amused glint appeared in those green eyes. Well, good. Always good to know he could entertain the grumpy elf by saying idiotic things.

“Yes, well, it’s just a thing that people say. Idle chitchat. You know, to help fill up those awkward silences.”

Fenris moved a little closer, the faintly amused look still in place.

“Hm. I do not make _chitchat_ but then, I do not find silence to be awkward.”

The elf’s sharp gaze swept him head to foot, and then back up to look intently at his face.

“You have rested today? Are you feeling better?”

It was one thing to think will-I-won’t-I when he was alone in his clinic. It was another thing to stand here looking into those marvelous green eyes with that growly voice running down his spine and pretend for a second that he wasn’t going to jump at the chance to have sex with this gorgeous creature. It may be a bad idea, and it would probably all end in blood and screaming but, really, which of his life choices _hadn’t_ ended up that way? So he grinned roguishly and answered,

“I feel fantastic. Got rid of the headache and had a chance to clean up, although I had too many visitors to get a nap in. First Varric, as you know, and then Hawke decided he had to stop by.”

The narrowing of those mossy eyes and a furrowed brow old him that the Tevinter was _not_ pleased to hear that.

“Hawke? What he did want? Not that I can’t guess.”

“Well, it seems he thought that we could, how did he put it, _still have fun together_. He didn’t think that his breaking my heart ought to be a turn-off or anything”

The tone he was taking seemed to mollify the elf, if his posture was anything to go by. Fenris was wearing a measuring look and his voice was a still little sharp when he spoke again.

“And? What did you tell him?”

“I told him I wasn’t in love with him anymore and that I didn’t want to have sex with him.”

At that, Fenris’ stance relaxed completely and his brow smoothed out again. Anders was never one to leave well enough alone however, or to just stop talking so while he looked down to pluck at a spot on his robes his mouth just kept rolling right along.

“Also, and I swear I didn’t do this purposefully, he _may_ have gotten the impression that you and I were, uh, sleeping together.”

He snuck a peek at the elf to see that his whole body had stiffened, presumably with surprise, and he was regarding the healer with an unreadable look. Well, in for a silver, in for a sovereign, so Anders just kept on babbling,

“As I said, it’s not that I lied, but he misinterpreted and…whoa.”

He cut himself off in surprise as he found Fenris suddenly _right there,_ just inches from his face. He had forgotten how fast the elf could move when he wanted. Those eyes were once again lit with amusement and something much hotter than that, and when he spoke his voice had that sexy burr to it that seemed to speak directly to Anders’ cock.

“Hm. We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t have any reason to call you a liar.”

Before Anders could think of a reply a strong, gauntleted hand wrapped carefully around the back of his head and pulled him down into a fierce kiss. Fenris wrapped his other arm around the healer’s back and pulled them tightly together. As the elf swept his tongue along his lower lip and then plunged it into his mouth he found himself melting into that embrace, his own hands gripping those slender hips and pressing them firmly against his groin.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there like that, but when Fenris finally pulled back a little he found that one of his legs was wrapped around the elf’s waist, so that Fenris was supporting most of his weight. Anders found that he didn’t care; he was ready to climb him like a spiky tree right in the middle of the clinic. Once again the Tevinter demonstrated that he had more than his fair share of self-control as he said,

“We should continue this in your room. I would rather not be interrupted by one of your patients. Unless, of course, you wish me to leave instead?”

He asked the question in the tone of a man who already knew what the answer was, but Anders appreciated being asked all the same. So he gathered his wits together enough to reply,

“No, we should definitely continue. This. Continue this in my room, that is.”

As he was speaking the elf had turned him and was guiding him towards his room with a hand placed at the small of his back. By the time they got inside and Fenris had shut the door behind them Anders was already working at the fastenings of his robes. The Tevinter pulled his gauntlets off and set them on the table, and then stepped closer to help the healer out of his clothes.

Once he was down to his smalls Fenris grabbed him by the hips and pulled him close again, while capturing his mouth for another bruising kiss. Anders marveled at the strength in those slender fingers, knowing that the elf could probably crush bones with just his hands. The thought of having those hands touch his most vulnerable spots was much more exciting than it should be for a man without a death wish.

The elf’s mouth left his and began traveling down the side of his neck, biting and then sucking gently on the bite marks. At the same time he gripped the healer’s ass in his hands and squeezed, making a growling noise low in his throat. Anders knew he had to get Fenris onto the bed before his legs gave way so he managed to gasp out,

“Ouch, your breastplate…can you take this off?”

The elf obliged by stepping back while Anders flopped down onto the cot. He watched avidly as Fenris began unbuckling the leather straps, pausing only to pull a small vial out of his belt pouch and toss it to the healer. Anders wanted to make a smart remark at that, but he found himself rendered speechless as the elf peeled himself out of those skintight leggings.

In that moment Anders discovered two things. One, those leggings were obviously too tight to allow smallclothes. Two, Fenris was…remarkably well-endowed. Not just for an elf, for…for anyone. The healer remembered a few times when he and Varric had cracked jokes about Fenris overcompensating with his greatsword. Now he realized he was…undercompensating. He should have a bigger sword. He should be carrying one of those lances the chevaliers in Orlais were so fond of. Wait…how long had he been sitting there staring at Fenris’ crotch?

He glanced up to see the elf looking at him with a questioning, almost hesitant expression on his face. Well, since he was probably staring at Fenris the way a starving urchin would look at a noble’s feast, the hesitancy was understandable. He cleared his throat and said reverently,

“Fenris you…you are an amazingly beautiful man.”

Since their conversation this morning Fenris had appeared as nothing less than confident and completely in charge, so the healer was surprised when his remark caused the elf to clear his throat awkwardly and reach up to self-consciously rub his forehead. What he said was nothing less than the truth. Quanari-sized cock aside, every other inch of him was perfectly proportioned, sleekly muscled, and artfully covered in lyrium scrollwork. Even that lovely cock had two white lines swirling along the sides.

Anders was suddenly overcome by the urge to run his tongue along those lyrium lines and demonstrate the truth of his words. So he moved forward off the cot to drop to his knees in front of the elf. Placing one hand on each muscled thigh he leaned forward until his lips were almost touching the tip of Fenris’ cock.

He looked up at Fenris face as he flicked his tongue out with deliberate slowness to lick just against the underside where the head met the shaft. The momentary shyness was gone, and the look in those green eyes was scorching as the elf reached out to his head with both hands. One hand pulled out his hair tie as the other threaded into his hair and urged him forward gently.

Anders didn’t need any more encouragement than that and he opened his mouth, first taking in just the tip and swirling his tongue around it, and then pulling him in deeper and sucking. The elf let out a throaty groan at that, fisting his hand in his hair. Between the sound and the feel of that velvet skin in his mouth the healer felt his own erection getting even harder.

He brought one hand up to wrap around the thick base of Fenris’ shaft, gripping it firmly and moving it so that the skin was pushed upwards. At the same time he relaxed his throat and slid downward as far as he could, until his hand met his lips. He swallowed while he had as much of that lovely cock in his throat as he could take, drawing another moan from the Tevinter. Then he stroked back down with his hand as he pulled his mouth back up, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked.

Before he could do it again Fenris tugged his head back until his mouth came free with a pop. The elf let out a ragged breath and then growled down at him.

“The bed. Now. On your hands and knees with your ass in the air.”

Anders didn’t even think, just found himself scrambling to obey, stripping off his small clothes as he went. He climbed onto his narrow cot and got onto all fours, arching his back so that he was displaying his ass wantonly. He was gratified to hear the Tevinter’s sharp intake of breath.

Fenris came to stand beside the cot, stroking one hand down his spine until it rested on the curve of his ass and then gently squeezing. He voice had dropped to an impossibly low register as he murmured,

“Who knew such sweetness would be hidden under all those robes?”

Still beside the bed, he reached forward and pulled at Anders hands while pushing down on him softly until his head and shoulders were pressed against the bed. This caused his back to arch in an even more obscene manner, and the elf hummed approvingly. Anders head was turned to the side so that he could see what the Tevinter was doing, and he watched as Fenris felt around on the bed until he found the vial, and then moved so he was closer to the end of the cot.

With his empty hand he stroked the healer’s butt and then leaned forward and nipped at it, that half-smile touching his face when Anders gave a little groan. He rubbed his fingers slowly along the crevice of the healer’s ass, stroking downward and then softly cupping his ball sac with his long fingers.

There were times when Anders could appreciate the slow teasing approach, but he had been thinking of nothing but this _all day._ So he was completely beyond pride when he whimpered,

“Maker! Fenris, just fuck me. _Please._ ”

He could still just barely meet the elf’s gaze out of the corner of his eye, and as he spoke he saw the pupils flare until they were almost all black. He nearly came just from the rumble of Fenris’ voice when he said,

“Hmm, and you beg so sweetly too. Very well.”

Anders saw the elf take the vial, uncork it and pour some oil into his hand, coating his fingers. He then let those slender fingers travel back up until one of them was just touching the edge of his hole, circling the muscle and sending delightful jolts of pleasure to his already straining cock. He spread his knees further and pleaded.

“Please!”

At that, one finger pressed inward, stretching him just so. Anders wanted more immediately, so he rocked back, making needy little mewling sounds in his throat as he did. The Tevinter growled again and slipped another finger inside, twisting and stretching him. Soon a third finger joined the first two, and Fenris pushed them in further and crooked them until Anders felt his whole body jerk at the wave of sensation that ran through him. The elf repeated that motion until Anders was practically sobbing into the blanket.

Finally, when the healer was certain he was going to come just from that, Fenris pulled his fingers out and maneuvered so that he was keeling on the cot behind him. He heard the noise of the elf slicking up his own cock, and then he felt the head pressing against his entrance.

As ready as he was, he couldn’t help but stiffen up just a little at the thought of that monster cock splitting him open. To his surprise, Fenris leaned forward and kissed him softly on his spine while murmuring something in a language he couldn’t understand. He pushed forward a little more until his head was just inside the healer’s eager little hole. Anders felt that contradictory push-pull of his muscles and he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

Fenris kept pushing inward, gently rocking his hips so that he was stretching the healer and moving deeper a fraction at a time. At first Anders was grateful for the slow speed, but once the elf was more than halfway he wanted more, and he wanted it _now._ So with a pleading whine he started rocking backwards into the elf. After one deep growl Fenris gave in and snapped his hips forward, in two thrusts seating himself all the way up to his balls.

Anders gave a load moan at the incredible feeling. It burned, but, oh, in the best way. He reached down as if to grab his own cock, but found his hand caught by the elf’s. Fenris reached forward to take hold of his other arm and move it so that both of his arms were crossed behind his back, his face and chest pressed even further into the bed. Once the elf had done that, he held both of the healer’s hands in one of his and then reached underneath to wrap his oil-slick hand around Anders’ shaft. He curved himself over the healer’s back so he could rasp out near his ear,

“Are you ready?”

Anders’ nodded as best as he could in that position, and Fenris leaned back up and began thrusting, stroking the healer’s erection as he did. He was slow and rhythmic at first, his hips angled just so that he would hit the sweet spot, but then he began speeding up until Anders could feel the Tevinter’s balls slapping against his perineum with each thrust.

That feeling, combined with the sensation of Fenris inside of him and pumping his cock, quickly sent him over the edge with a shout. It felt like he came with his whole body, his muscles clenching, toes curling up, and his vision going white as his seed spurted out over the elf’s fingers and the blanket underneath them.

He heard the elf’s answering yell as he slammed forward one last time and found his own release, his markings lighting up the room as he did so. Fenris let go of his hands and slumped forward over his back, panting into the back of his neck. They stayed like that for a long moment and then Fenris eased out of him and stood up beside the bed.

The Tevinter tugged at the cover underneath him as he rumbled out,

“Let me use this to clean us off, since it is already a mess. You do have another blanket here, don’t you?”

Anders looked up at him blearily, wondering if the elf was actually expecting him to _stand_ after that. Fenris tugged at the blanket again, and the healer sort of lifted up and scooted around while the elf pulled it out from beneath him.

The Tevinter took one relatively clean corner and wiped him off as gently as he could with the rough fabric. Then he cleaned himself while Anders watched sleepily. He pulled his leggings back on and took the dirty blanket back out into the clinic.

Anders lay on his stomach, feeling sated and tired and properly fucked. Part of him wanted to give in and fall asleep, but he had enough manners to stay awake until Fenris left. What he would like most would be to curl up around his lover to sleep, but after what Hawke had said about him being too cuddly, and what he knew of Fenris’ general attitude towards touching, he just assumed the Tevinter wouldn’t be spending the night.

So when Fenris came back in with a clean cover and proceeded to spread it over him and then climb back onto the cot he was shocked enough to wake up, at least a little. The elf propped up the pillow so that he was half lying, half sitting with his back against the wall, and sort of slid in underneath the healer since there wasn’t room to lie beside him. He pulled Anders up so that the healer was lying on his side with his head on the elf’s chest.

He glanced up at he Tevinter’s face, noticing that although his eyes were half-lidded he still looked fairly alert. Anders struggled to form a coherent thought. He and Fenris were…were they _snuggling?_ Experimentally he turned his head just enough to press a soft kiss against the elf’s chest, running his hand over that firm abdomen as he did so. In response Fenris blinked slowly, hummed deep in his throat and then threaded his fingers through the healer’s hair, gently stroking. They _were_ snuggling. Anders felt sleep rising up to claim him so he gave up thinking for the night and promised himself he would be properly astonished in the morning.


	12. That boy is a monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has issues, per usual.

For as long as Fenris could remember he had felt little beyond shame, fear, and anger. Since coming to Kirkwall he was aware of a growing desire to feel…something else. When he had killed Hadriana he hadn’t wanted to give in to his hatred, but he had been helpless to fight it. Afterward he had gone to Hawke, hoping that by giving himself to the warrior he could blot out the hatred, and the memories of pain.

That had...not worked out as he hoped.

He had known that Hawke was not a gentle man, but neither was he. He hadn’t known how that kind of rough treatment would affect him. First it had brought up memories of being a slave, and...things Danarius had done to him. Then later it had brought back the memories he had lost, only to have them dissolve again like mist. Even now a sense of loss rose up in him and he pushed it away, determinedly setting his mind to other things.

Like the blond-haired healer curled up against his chest. He was without words to describe what had gone on between them this evening. While he had certainly never intended to _hurt_ Anders, the idea of sex where both people enjoyed it was beyond his experience. And so was this closeness afterwards.

He had intended to keep guard from the chair outside Anders door again, but instead had found himself crawling back onto the cot. He should have been aggravated by the constant presence of the man next to him, but he found the healer’s touch to be oddly…soothing. So he lay there throughout the long night, absent-mindedly stroking the blonde’s hair and listening for the sound of armor-plated footsteps.

Sometime towards morning he heard a strange rumbling noise, and he grimaced to himself when he realized it was Anders’ stomach. Isabela had tried to talk him into bringing food to the healer yesterday, but the image of himself carrying a tray through the undercity to fetch a mage his dinner was too servile to be borne.

Anders was a grown man; he could feed his own damn self. And sleep when he needed to, and go out into the sunlight every once in a while, and repair that bedraggled coat he wore constantly. Just because he _wouldn’t_ didn’t mean Fenris was going to start looking after him like a sl…like a servant.

The blonde’s stomach rumbled again and Fenris felt his own frame grow tense with irritation. He shifted position abruptly for the first time that night, and the motion wakened the healer so that he blinked and rubbed at his brown eyes sleepily and then smiled softly up at the elf. That did nothing to decrease his aggravation, in fact, it only heightened.

Anders didn’t seem to notice as he slowly maneuvered around the elf so he could sit up. The smile didn’t leave his face, although he had a disbelieving look in his eyes as he asked,

“Did you stay awake all night? Why would you do that?”

Fenris took a deep, calming breath and rose from the cot. When he replied his deep voice rumbled out evenly.

“It is not safe here at night, remember? Sooner or later the templars will be down here in force. We need to think of a better place for you to stay.”

At that, an unfamiliar warmth crept into those honey colored eyes. Fenris didn’t know what to make of that. Yesterday Anders had looked at him with sheer lust. _That_ was something he recognized from having others look at him that way, although he never understood why. But this…there was a softness to this expression, as if the healer thought he was a hero from one of Varric’s ridiculous novels.

The tightening he felt in his chest he passed off as more irritation; it was exactly this sort of soft-headed romantic nonsense that led Anders into one set of troubles after another. He resisted the urge to give him a good shake when the healer spoke again.

“Fenris. I do appreciate this sudden display of protectiveness, but I’ve been taking these sort of risks for most of my life. I agree that I should probably move the clinic, but having you losing sleep to guard me while I rest is a little over-the-top.”

He had begun donning his armor while the blonde man was talking, and he quickly fastened the various buckles and slipped his gauntlets on without looking at the healer, frustration growing all the while. Once he was comfortably ensconced in leather and metal he turned back to Anders, his voice perhaps a little sharper than he intended.

“Yes. Those risks you have taken. The choices you have made are exactly the reason I have chosen to…to protect you. You need to be protected from _yourself._

Anders had been looking up at him from where he sat, his expression changing from puzzled to hurt.

“My choices? This…this is a mage thing isn’t it? Because I merged with Justice? You think I might start dabbling in blood magic and summoning shades and whatever other nefarious things you’re so certain mages get up to, don’t you?”

Before he could answer the healer leapt up and snatched up his robes, pulling them on while choking out,

“You…you’re just like a templar aren’t you? You just want to shag me and then wait around for a demon to take me over so you can slice me up with that whopping big sword of yours!”

The accusation was unexpected, and so far from what he was actually thinking that he flung his hands out in negation and blurted out,

“No!”

The shock he was feeling must have shown on his face, because Anders seemed to calm down a little. The blonde continued fastening his robes as he looked at him in bewilderment. Fenris knew he had to offer some explanation, but…how was he to explain the confusion of feelings the healer inspired in him?

He felt an overwhelming urge to flee, and he actually took a step backwards before stopping himself. Running had been his response to everything out of the ordinary for too long. But Anders was still waiting for him to speak and he didn’t know what to say.

In fact, that was really the problem, and why Anders so often misunderstood him. He was a man of few words, while the healer was a man of many words. Many, _many_ words. And obviously, if he didn’t supply the words Anders would just insert his own, and that’s where everything went astray. So he steeled himself and plunged ahead.

“You are wrong in your assumptions. I have no fear that you will resort to blood magic, or consort with demons.”

Anders looked frankly skeptical.

“Really? I seem to remember you saying that _all_ mages will resort to blood magic eventually.”

There was not nearly enough room in this tiny cell Anders lived in to pace properly, so Fenris placed a gauntleted hand against his forehead as he said with determined calm,

“Yes. And you have frequently said _all_ templars love torturing hapless mages, despite the fact that we have met a few that you yourself said seemed to be _decent_. It’s hyperbole. People have been known to resort to that when they feel strongly about something.”

The healer still did not look entirely appeased and his sarcasm was out in full force.

“Oh, really? I need to be protected from myself, but of course it’s not because I’m going to suddenly turn into a monster. You would never think something like that.”

 _Vishante_ but this man was infuriating in his stubbornness. Fenris felt his temper fraying and he growled out,

“No I would _not._ I know that you will not turn into a monster because you are too good for that. _You_ are good, and…kind, and…and you believe that most people are good as well. It is foolishness.”

Small space or not, he couldn’t stop from pacing anyway, even if it was two steps from the door to the bed and two steps back. With a grumbled _Venhedis_ he swung back toward the healer and lit his markings, a scowl darkening his face as he gestured at himself.

“I am none of those things. Not good or kind or gentle. _I_ am the monster. I was _created_ by a mage to guard mages. And until I came to know you there was never a mage I thought worth protecting. That is why you need me, because I will be ruthless where you will not.”

It was Anders’ turn to look shocked, and his honey-brown eyes held Fenris’ green ones as the elf struggled to regain his poise. He had wanted to make the healer understand, but he had not meant to say...so much. For an endless moment they stared at each other, and Fenris was prepared to flee at the first sign of pity…or fear. He couldn’t take either of those from the other man. But then Anders stomach grumbled again, and the tension was broken as the healer gave a little shrug and a sheepish look crept onto his face.

Fenris’ shoulders dropped wearily as he turned toward the door, feeling as exhausted as if he’d just fought a great battle. He spoke over his shoulder as he began to walk out of the room.

“Come. We are supposed to accompany Hawke today, and we can find breakfast for you on the way.”

He didn’t get further than the doorway before a softly spoken “Fenris” stopped him. Glancing back, he met Anders’ intense, searching gaze as the healer said softly,

“I am not…not really that good. And you are a better man than you think.”

He _harrumphed_ and continued walking, knowing from the sounds that Anders had grabbed his staff and was following him out of the clinic. He knew he couldn’t change the way the other man viewed the world, so he would just do what he must to keep his mage safe.


	13. Anders adjusts his thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders has to think two impossible things before breakfast. Ok, maybe not impossible but...revelatory.

Anders could not have felt more stunned if Fenris had hit him with that giant maul he used to carry around. He followed blindly behind the elf as they walked through Darktown, trying to put the world back into some order that made sense.

As long as he had known the prickly elf, he had assumed that his disdainful attitude towards so many things…the food and drink at the Hanged Man, the smell of the docks, the people who dwelt in Darktown…were because he felt superior to it all. In fact, and this thought gave Anders a guilty flinch, he had often wondered how an ex-slave could possibly think so highly of himself.

Now it had just been brought home to him that Fenris didn’t think highly of himself at all, in fact, it appeared that he rather hated himself.

This revelation shed a different light on the ex-slave’s attitude towards mages. He thought himself the creation of a mage, he thought himself a monster and he hated himself, so he therefore hated mages.

For the first time he wondered exactly what kinds of things an evil, blood-magic-using Magister would have a slave do. Anders felt another guilty stab because he had never considered it seriously before, assuming that Fenris was...exaggerating. He had known that it was likely he had been raped, but that happened in the Circle as well. It was another reason he had thought Fenris should sympathize with mages.

But to consider himself a monster, he had to have done something he couldn’t forgive _himself_ for.

It made him angry; making him think of those mages who submitted to the Circle willingly, thinking that was their Maker-ordained punishment for being born with magic. No one should blame themselves, hate themselves, for something that was done to them. He felt that stirring in the vault of his mind that told him it made Justice angry as well.

But more than anger, their conversation this morning had brought all his healer’s instincts to the fore. Fenris had revealed his hidden wound, the thing that was crippling his very soul, and now Anders _ached_ to make it all better. Nothing so beautiful should be so broken.

The question was, how to go about fixing it?

Anders knew it wasn’t something that would be accomplished easily. But he had to start somewhere, and he figured the first step would be to bring things back to normal…well, whatever could pass for _normal_ between the two of them. They had walked all the way to the Lowtown market without speaking and the healer felt that had been long enough so he cleared his throat to get the elf’s attention.

“You know, I was thinking that Hawke is probably not going to be too happy to see me today.”

By the way the set of Fenris’ shoulders relaxed just slightly, he could tell the elf was eager to move past what had happened this morning as well. He even dropped back half a pace to walk beside the healer.

“Hawke asked me yesterday to meet him and everyone at the mansion this morning. Unless he specifically told you not to come, I assume you are still part of everyone.”

As they approached a nearby food cart a tantalizing smell of baked bread and other savories made his stomach growl once again. He quickened his pace just a tiny bit as he explained,

“He may have been a _little_ too angry to remember to uninvite me. I kind of…poked a hole in his big fat ego.”

Fenris had stopped in front of the vendor and was ordering several delicious smelling meat pasties. He handed three to the healer, but Anders was pleased to note that the normally finicky elf kept two for himself.

Too starving to wait, Anders bit right into the steaming bun and promptly burned his mouth. At first he thought the smirk on Fenris’ face was because he knew what he had just done, but when the elf spoke again he realized it was for a different reason altogether.

“Hawke’s ego will repair itself, I’m sure. He is just going to have to accept that you are mine now, and that will be easier to accomplish if we do not avoid him.”

Having already turned away with breakfast in hand, the elf didn’t see Anders stand there gaping for a moment before hurrying after him. He knew that Fenris had intended for…whatever this was between them… to be ongoing, but he hadn’t expected him to stake his claim so _bluntly_. Frankly, hearing _you are mine_ said in that amazing, smoky voice made him wish they were still back in his cot, or even in one of Lowtown’s small, dark alleys, rather than walking up the steps to Hightown.

To distract himself he bit into his second meat pie and burnt his tongue again. He had to laugh at himself as he followed the slender form of his elvhen lover to Hawke’s estate. He had thought that, being a runaway apostate _and_ Warden carrying the duel spirits of Justice/Vengeance inside him, that his life couldn’t get any stranger.

Apparently in this, as in so many things, he was very wrong.

~~~

Anders had been a little uncomfortable about showing up in Hawke’s house with his lover when he had made him angry over that fact just the day before, but after Fenris’ remark his head was so full of _how am I supposed to behave now_ that he didn’t have room to think about it any more.

He had liked it when Fenris had said he was _his_ for a number of reasons. He wanted to have sex with the gorgeous elf again, that went without saying, and he had become rather fond of the broody Tevinter. If this morning was any indication, that fondness could develop into something warmer as he learned more about him. Also, it just made him feel good to be wanted, and by someone who obviously thought highly of him, even if he didn’t feel he lived up to that assessment. But all of that still left him with no real idea of what the elf expected from him.

In situations where he was allowed to be, he knew he was an affectionate person. Disregarding the sexual hijinks in the Circle, the way his life had worked out so far those situations had been few and far between. Pretty much the only outlets for that side of his nature had been with Ser Pounce-A-Lot and Karl, and even with Karl that affection had mostly had to be hidden except when they were alone.

So if it were up to him there would be kissing, and sneaky little caresses, and…and hugging. Frankly after the _I-am-a-monster_ thing he just wanted to give Fenris a hug that didn’t stop.

He doubted that would go over well.

So considering the fact that his lover was so prickly, both literally and metaphorically, he was just going to have to follow his lead for now, hard as that might be.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice walking up to the estate doors, passing Aveline heading out as they went in, or the greetings of everyone else as they joined them in the study. It wasn’t until a grinning Varric snapped his fingers under his nose that he came back to the present, suddenly focusing on the fact that he was standing in front of the fireplace with the dwarf and Isabela. The pirate gave a delighted laugh and said,

“Ooh, that good huh? I want all the juicy details.”

He flushed and tried to think of a smart reply, but Hawke joined them before he could and said dryly,

“The rest of us _don’t_ so he can keep it to himself.”

Merrill was sitting on the floor with Hawke’s mabari, Noble. She had a curious look on her face and had opened her mouth to say something, but Sebastian jumped in first,

“I agree with Hawke, no details are necessary.”

Isabela laughed again,

“Spoilsports. I’ll just have to use my imagination.”

Fenris harrumphed and spoke up from where he was leaning against the wall near the mantelpiece,

“Hawke. Didn’t you ask us here for a reason?”

The big warrior nodded, walking over to the armchair that Sebastian was sitting in and perching on the arm. He really didn’t have the frame for perching, and the priest scooted over uncomfortably. Hawke didn’t seem to notice as he addressed the group,

“I was going to ask you all to accompany me out to the Bone Pit to check on how the miners are doing, but then this morning I received a letter asking me to go see the Viscount. Aveline also said she has a favor she wants me to do if I am going to be in the Keep, so it looks like we’re changing out plans for the day.

He smiled down at Merrill sitting on the floor,

“It’s always risky parading you mage types under the noses of our officials, so I think you and Anders will have to sit this one out today.”

Varric caught the healer’s eye and raised a questioning brow as he directed his words at Hawke,

“Unless you need me today I think Blondie and I should go look at available real estate for his clinic. The sooner we get him moved the better.”

Hawke gave a disinterested shrug, while Anders looked over Varric’s head to see Fenris nodding approvingly at him. As everyone gathered themselves to head out, the elf came over to stand in front of him and say in his deep voice,

“I am hoping that the dwarf can find you a place to move to today, but since we do not know where that will be; I will see you tonight at the Hanged Man.”

It wasn’t really a question, but Anders nodded anyway. He suppressed an urge to lean forward and give his lover a peck on the lips, and just smiled at him instead. Fenris didn’t exactly smile back, but one eyebrow quirked up over eyes grown suddenly warmer, and for now that was good enough for Anders.

By mid-afternoon he was surveying his soon-to-be-new clinic in Lowtown. Merrill had tagged along for the day, and the dwarf had shown them a few options, including an offshoot of the passageway that ran under the docks and an old warehouse that was built just against the outside wall of the city. The place he finally decided on was a series of rooms carved out of one of the many warrens that ran under the city, this one having an entrance in a storehouse in the alienage and another in Darktown.

Anders thought it would work well since his patients in the Undercity would still be able to reach him easily. He would also be more accessible to the elves in the alienage, which was another group that that could use more help.

Varric told him that he would send some men down to pack up, and that he could be all set up in the new location by the next day. They stopped at the Hanged Man so the dwarf could send a quick message, and then they all trooped down to Darktown to meet one of Varric’s men.

Anders showed the hireling everything that needed to be moved, which really wasn’t much, pointing out the potions and ingredients that needed to be handled with special care. He shooed Merrill away from his books when he caught her poking around his bookshelf, thinking that the downside of his new location would be having the little blood mage around more often. Since they were going to be taking his cot along with the rest of the furniture, he gathered up what few changes of smallclothes and the like that he had, prepared to spend the night at the Hanged Man if necessary.


	14. The advantage of being a Battlemaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is never really too tired.

It had been a long, strange day and Fenris was bone-tired. First a visit to the Viscount, to discover that a quanari delegation had disappeared after visiting the Keep, and then a quick talk with the Seneschal to determine that they would need to head to the Hanged Man for more information.

But before they did that, they found out that blunt, straight-forward Aveline had a crush on one of her guardsman and not the slightest idea what to do about it. Watching her fumble with some truly strange courtship ideas, while Hawke’s attempts to flirt with her went straight over her head, made him want to shake some sense into her.

Then, after finally agreeing to meet Donnic that evening, they went to the Hanged Man and Aveline, at least, got to vent her frustrations on one of her hapless guardsmen. Then it was back up to the Chantry to discover the irritating sister Petrice was involved, and then back down through the city just a bit to late too save the quanari, but not too late to have to slaughter some templars.

So now it was evening and he was sitting at a table in the Hanged Man, watching Hawke and Donnic sitting together at a table across the room. Sebastian had gone back to the Chantry but Varric, Anders, and Merrill had joined him and Isabela as they watched Hawke’s attempts to keep the guardsman entertained.

Isabela had been regaling Varric with the story of the Guard-Captain and her terrible attempts at courtship when Fenris decided he was ready to call it a day. Rising to his feet, he gestured to the healer,

“Since you are without a place to stay tonight you are welcome to stay at the manor if you wish.”

Anders looked at him for a moment and then nodded and got up as well. On the way back to Hightown he let the blonde do all the talking, telling him about the new clinic and it’s location. Once they arrived at the manor, he led the healer upstairs to his bedroom.

“You may make yourself comfortable in here. I am going to bathe, which you are welcome to do once I have finished.”

He paused for a moment to watch Anders drop his bag onto the bench, and then the healer turned and gave him a measuring look before he spoke,

“Would you like some help? You look at bit tired, and I bet it would be nice to have someone scrub your back for once.”

That actually _did_ sound nice, but he just grunted and gave a non-committal shrug. Anders must have taken that as a yes however, because he followed him into the bathing chamber.

One nice thing about living in a manor-house belonging to a Tevinter merchant was that the bathing chamber had been adapted to the Tevinter style, which meant the “bathtub” was large enough to take up most of the room.

He filled the tub, and even allowed Anders to use magic to heat it because he was too tired to argue. He settled in, leaning back against the steps on one side, and when Anders climbed in after him and starting lathering him up he didn’t object to that either. He let the man scrub his back, and then wash his hair, and he could tell by the grin on the healer’s face that he was enjoying himself.

Fenris had to admit that he was enjoying it too, and despite how tired he was his body was still responding to the blonde’s gentle touch. A fact that Anders noticed as they were toweling off, as his grin grew wider and just a little bit wicked. The blonde reached out and stopped him before he could put his smallclothes back on.

“If you’ll let me, I know something that will _really_ help you relax and get a good night’s sleep.”

He looked up into the healer’s face, at the impish gleam in his eye and then at those soft lips and he hmmd in his throat. The idea of lying back and letting that mouth service him had a definite appeal. So he grabbed the healer’s face for a kiss, and then pushed him back with a little smile so that he could climb onto the bed.

He barely had time to lean back against the pillows before Anders was kneeling between his legs, pressing kissing against his stomach and then along his erection. Those honey-brown eyes were trained on his face as he ran his tongue down his length, and then sucked each of his balls into his mouth.

He groaned and dug his fingers into the still damp blond hair, giving himself over to the wonders of that mouth as he sucked and licked and stroked along his shaft. It didn’t take long before he came with a muttered curse, and Anders held his hips firmly as he did, swallowing every drop.

As he lay there panting, the healer slid up so that he was lying beside him on the bed. The look on Anders face was smug, and although it was well-deserved, it still pricked at Fenris’ pride a little. And it pricked even more as the healer said in a very self-satisfied voice,

“Well, that did it didn’t it? You look all in now.”

Fenris wasn’t going to let that stand. Years of conditioning had made it so that he could go without sleep for several days and still be battle-worthy, and he knew a few tricks for recovering his stamina. So he allowed a small smirk to cross his face as he sat up, briefly lighting his markings, calling on the reserves of his strength and feeling his cock grow instantly hard again.

The look of shock that crossed Anders face made it completely worth it.

Just a short while the healer was on his back and he was kneeling between his legs with his arms hooked under each of Anders’ knees, pounding into him and watching the surprised look be replaced by one of absolute bliss. He felt himself nearing the edge again and he growled out,

“Touch yourself. I want to watch you come while I am inside you.”

Anders eagerly obeyed, reaching down and pumping his own cock as he groaned and rocked into each thrust. Soon the healer was spurting ropes of white across his own stomach, his muscles clenching around Fenris as he yelled out. The Tevinter let his own release take him then, his whole body shuddering as he came inside that tight ass.

He pulled out and slowly lay down beside the healer, who was sweaty and gasping for air. Giving him a quick kiss, he turned onto his back and pulled Anders close, feeling himself grow sleepy. He truly was all in now, but at least he had taken the other man with him.


	15. Kinky spells and lyrium songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat people are crazy, Dalish blood mages are crazier, and Hawke gets shot down again.

It was a damn good thing that Anders was a cat person.

As was his habit of the past couple days, he was spending a few quiet moments in the new clinic thinking about his lover while he recharged his mana.

When he had compared Fenris to a cat before he was being whimsical, but while actually trying to negotiate his way through this new relationship he discovered that being a cat person was his most valuable attribute.

He was familiar with having a companion who was aloof, disdainful, had eyes that missed nothing and judged everything…but who, when they felt like it, could be suddenly, surprisingly affectionate. Haughty and dignified, but occasionally abandoning that dignity to show a playful side. It was true that he hadn’t seen much of the playful side yet, but he had seen enough glimpses to know it was a good possibility. He also hadn’t been awakened by Fenris sitting on his head yet, but he supposed that was a possibility too.

Anders was a cat person, and not only that, he was a person cats liked…which wasn’t always the same thing. Maybe it was because he was an expert in differentiating between the various flavors of being ignored by a cat. There was: actually ignoring you so that you’ll leave them alone, pretending to ignore you to enhance the cat _mystique_ , and pretending to ignore you so that you’ll work harder to get their attention. Not to mention the whole _pet me, pet me, now I’m suddenly going to bite your hand_ thing.

That was _exactly_ like dealing with Fenris.

In just the few days that they had been keeping company he was already learning when to give the Tevinter some room, or when to push a little further into Fenris’ personal space because the elf wanted him to even though he would never deign to say it. He had also figured out a few of the things that made his lover purr, although he had yet to find that special thing that would make him roll over and expose his soft underbelly. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

So needless to say, in spite of the fact that Fenris could be exasperating, he was enjoying every minute of it. Because Anders _was_ a cat person, and he’d be the first to admit that cat people…are _crazy_.

Smiling ruefully at himself, he stretched and went back out to see to the rest of that day’s patients. It had taken no time at all for word to spread through the Undercity that the healer had a new location, and he was as busy as ever. Hawke hadn’t shown any interest in having him along for the past couple of days, so he had plenty of time to devote to getting the new clinic in shape.

Towards evening he was helping a very pregnant elf woman named Drina down off the exam table when Fenris, Varric, Merrill and Isabela came into the clinic. Merrill had her arm around the pirate’s waist, supporting her as she walked with a noticeable limp.

Anders escorted Drina to where her sister was waiting near the door, promising her that he would start dropping in on her daily, since she was due to give birth any time now. By the time he walked back into the clinic Isabela was sitting on one of the tables, grimacing and rubbing at one of her legs. Merrill fluttered around her looking worried, but the pirate just laughed and said tiredly,

“Oh, stop worrying kitten. It’s nothing Anders can’t fix up in a second.”

There was a large gash running along the upper thigh of her right leg. It was long, and fairly deep, but it hadn’t hit any arteries and the edges were clean so it didn’t take much effort for Anders to close the wound. As she got down from the table and bounced on her leg experimentally the healer couldn’t help but tease her.

“You know, a pair of regular pants could have prevented that; they don’t even have to be armored.”

Isabela tossed her head back and gave him a saucy look.

“Oh sweet thing, pants are overrated. Every once in a while someone gets in a lucky hit, and it doesn’t matter if you’re wearing armor or not. I move _faster_ without pants on.

She waggled her eyebrows as she said the last part, so he would know she meant that in more than one way. Or actually, that she meant it in one way, but it was the dirtiest possible way. Then she chuckled and continued,

"Besides, if you had been with us it wouldn’t even have slowed me down.”

At that Varric nodded his head in agreement and looked up at the healer.

“Speaking of, Hawke wants us to go to the Bone Pit tomorrow and we all refused to go unless you’re going too. If we’re going to go fight dragons, or who-knows-what in that deathtrap, we want to have our healer along.”

Anders nodded resignedly, but he was a little relieved. The Bone Pit was a deathtrap and he didn’t relish the idea of Fenris going off to fight there without him. Varric smiled and hoisted Bianca onto his shoulder,

“Ok, Blondie, we’ll meet…”

He was interrupted by a high pitched yelp and Fenris’ threatening voice,

“What do you think you are doing, _mage?_

The three of them turned to look across the room where Merrill was standing in front of the bookcase with her hands held guiltily behind her back while Fenris scowled down at her.

“I was just looking, not touching...well, there was a little touching because not all of the titles are easy to read…and I did flip some pages, but I didn’t _take_ anything.”

Anders frowned, irritated that the Dalish was poking around in his stuff again. Isabela patted his arm and said,

“I’ll go stop the children from fighting.”

He tuned back to Varric, who rolled his eyes and gave a little chuckle,

“As I was saying, we’ll meet at the Hanged Man in the morning. Bring extra potions and I’ll make sure the clinic gets restocked later.”

Dwarf, Dalish and pirate took their leave after that, and Anders couldn’t help but check and make sure the little blood mage hadn’t done any damage to what few books he owned. As he was inspecting them Fenris pointed to a large tome, lying on its side on the bottom shelf.

“I think that is the one she was looking through.”

Anders picked up the book and held it towards the elf,

“You _think_ that’s the one? I would think you’d notice the one marked _Book of Spells_ even if it was just so that you could avoid it like a plague. Or try and burn it when I’m not looking.”

Fenris scowled at him, green eyes flashing angrily and then looking away, leaving Anders to wonder what he had done now. The Tevinter didn’t keep him wondering for too long however, because he looked back up at the healer with an almost defiant look on his face.

“I do not _know_ what it says. Slaves are not taught to read unless they are scribes.”

 _Andraste’s knickerweasels_ he hated Tevinter. To think he had once thought they were enlightened because of their views on magic. He silently regarded the white-haired elf, wondering if this was a time when he should back away or push forward. Finally he offered hesitantly,

“I didn't realize that. I could…teach you. You are a free man Fenris, and an intelligent one. You should know how to read.”

Fenris stood as if frozen, and for a long moment the healer wondered if he had made a mistake. But then the expression in those mossy eyes softened and the elf spoke wryly,

“I have no interest in reading your magic books.”

Anders laughed quietly,

“No, and I imagine my books on anatomy and the healing arts wouldn’t be interesting for you either. But we can start with just reading and writing basic words, and then we’ll find some books you like later.”

The elf nodded in acceptance, white hair falling over his eyes as he looked down at his hands. When he met the healer’s gaze again those eyes were dark with feeling, although his husky voice was determinedly casual.

“I would like that.”

~~~

There were no dragons in the Bone Pit this time, but that was small consolation when they had to face a spider that was nearly as large, and poisonous to boot. Almost the whole group had come along: Hawke, Sebastian, Isabela, Varric, Fenris and Merrill. That was a lot of bodies to track and make sure weren’t wounded during a fight. Luckily he was in top form that day, both for fighting and healing, after his fourth night in a row of full, uninterrupted sleep.

Justice had no patience for the weakness of the mortal body, and in the years since they had been joined he had rarely been able to snatch more than a few hours of sleep before the spirit was prodding him awake again, anxious to _do something productive_.

That had changed since he had begun spending the night curled up against his elvhen lover. Justice had always said that lyrium was like a song that he loved listening to. Apparently, while raw lyrium was like an untrained singer, and processed lyrium had a little more harmony, the markings on Fenris’ body harnessed the song of the lyrium so that it was like listening to a Master bard. The markings did not even have to be activated, the song was captured within the design; and so Justice was perfectly content to lie there against him and just listen. Which in turn allowed Anders to get some real sleep for once.

So it was with a slightly guilty conscience that he took in the blue shadows showing under Fenris’ eyes as they started the long trek back into the city. While he had been getting excellent sleep, the elf had been getting no sleep at all.

He had stayed with Anders in the clinic every night, and despite its new location he was paranoid about the healer sleeping in a place where everyone knew to find him. So, just like their first night together, he had been keeping guard all night while Anders lay sleeping against his chest. Usually he managed to slip off to his house and get some rest for a few hours each day, but today he just…endured.

Anders could admit to himself, and to Justice who agreed, that that kind of single-minded purpose and display of willpower was...pretty damned hot. Well, Justice didn’t think the _hot_ part, but he did approve of the purpose and willpower.

Still, he had kept a sharp eye on Fenris to make sure he was all right during the battle, and he worried that the elf wouldn’t be able to keep this up in the long run.

His gaze sought the source of his worry, walking up ahead with Hawke, Varric and Merrill. The little blood mage was currently teasing Fenris, and that reminded Anders of something so he hurried to catch up with them.

“Merrill, were you looking in my grimoire?”

“Me? What? No! When?”

“Yesterday, when Fenris caught you looking at my books. You know, those are private.”

Fenris, Varric and Hawke watched with varying degrees of interest while Merrill blushed and stammered.

“I know that's why…oh, fine, I admit it. I was hoping you'd have um... dirty spells.”

That brought the four men to a halt as Anders stared at her, certain he hadn’t heard right.

“Dirty spells?”

Merrill looked at him earnestly.

“You know to um, make things more exciting. Oh I shouldn’t have said anything.”

By this time Isabela and Sebastian had caught up to the rest of them. Anders mind was struggling to process what Merrill was up to when Hawke gave him a smug, almost triumphant grin. Maker’s balls the naïve little Dalish wasn’t doing this because she wanted to sleep with _Hawke_ was she?

He wasn’t sure what was worse at this point, knowingly consorting with demons, or knowingly consorting with the conceited warrior. Well, it was her choice if that’s what she wanted, but he certainly wasn’t going to do anything to _help_. So he decided to just tell her the truth.

“Look Merrill, I know what spell you were thinking of, and here’s the thing about that. Someone called it the _electricity trick_ once and the name just sort of stuck, but it doesn’t actually have anything to so with electricity. It’s really an adapted healing spell.”

Merrill’s puzzled brows drew together over widening eyes,

“Oh…it’s a..healing…really?”

“Yes. Healing spells make you _feel_ good, you just don’t notice how good because you’re too busy not being in pain any more. So while I was in the Circle I developed a healing spell that would make the… activities of the apprentices more enjoyable, by concentrating the pleasurable sensation on the nerves. Plus, it had the bonus effect of keeping any nasty little diseases from making the rounds through the Circle.”

The Dalish was so disappointed her ears drooped a little, and her voice dropped to a sad little whisper,

“Oh, well, I can’t do healing magic at all.”

Before Anders could say something about, _yes, not being able to heal is one of the downside’s of blood magic_ Hawke stepped up and put a consoling arm around her shoulders.

“There, there Merrill. It’s not like it’s necessary, even without the magic we can find a way to make things exciting.”

Merrill looked up at the big warrior in pure confusion.

“Well…that’s, that’s very supportive of you, I suppose. I hadn’t really expected to make it a group project but if you all want to brainstorm ideas I guess we could. It seems a little…strange.”

Varric had covered his face with his hand while muttering, “Oh, Daisy” while Isabella stepped up beside the little Dalish, wrapping an arm about her waist and pulling her out of Hawke’s grasp. The pirate started guiding her along the path again, and she gave the warrior an arch look as she practically purred,

“Sorry Hawke, for once I’m not interested in any _group projects._ This is just between kitten and me.”

At first the big Fereldan looked too surprised to be upset as he blurted,

“Isabela! You and Merrill?”

The pirate kept walking as she gave a throaty laugh and tossed back over her shoulder,

“She asked me to show her the six things women are good for. I guess she wanted to show me something in return.”

As the two women walked slowly away they could just hear the pirate saying,

“You know, I was thinking. Can you still do that spell with the vines? Because if you can cast that on yourself I have an idea…”

Hawke was still standing in place, spluttering angrily. Finally he turned to Varric and practically shouted,

“You! You’re...you’re ok with that?”

Varric just shrugged and answered calmly,

“Rivaini and I have already had a little talk.”

The dwarf turned and started walked after the women, and Anders, Fenris and Sebastian all turned to follow. After a moment Hawke joined them, cursing under his breath. As they got closer to the city Hawke seemed to have regained control of himself, although he had a disgusted expression on his face as he and Sebastian took the lead once more.

The pirate dropped back to walk beside Anders, giving him a curious and slightly miffed look as she spoke,

“I can’t believe that was a _healing_ spell.”

“It’s just the flash of light and the zinging feeling along the nerves that brings electricity to mind. A healing spell is really a lot more practical; a jolt of electricity _can_ stop your heart, you know. Kind of a downer when you’re having a go with someone.”

He glanced over at Fenris to see the elf regarding him with an unreadable expression. The pirate’s voice still sounded put out when she answered,

“Yes sweet thing, but the _danger_ added to the excitement.”

Anders just shrugged his shoulders and said wryly,

“For mages, breaking the rules in the Circle was dangerous enough.”


	16. Always listen to Isabela, part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freedom, friendship, and felicitations.

Fenris was not in the habit of taking advice from his friends. In fact, he was not in the habit of having friends.

As he stood under the weak spring sun in the Gallows, his gaze passed over Varric, Isabela and Sebastian as they stood with Hawke, who was speaking to Emeric. It occurred to him that these were, in fact, his friends. Well…Hawke was a complicated pain in the ass, but the rest were his friends.

For an ex-slave who had been living as a fugitive for years, it was a remarkable thought.

Over the past couple of weeks he felt as if he were starting to see things with new eyes, as if there were something new to be learned from even the most commonplace things. It was a little bit frightening, because for each new thing learned the world got a little bigger. For slaves and fugitives alike smaller worlds were safer, the known was easier to plan for and react to. But he was starting to think he wanted to live in an infinitely expanding world.

Not every day was like that. There were still times when he wanted things to be black and white, when having to peel back layers of meaning to get to the truth of something seemed like too much trouble compared to just judging it by the simple label on its surface.

But on a day like today…standing against the stones and feeling the sun gaining in strength, realizing that he, Fenris, was in possession of something as exotic and valuable as _friendships_ , he was…perfectly content.

A quick flash of blue eyes pulled him from his musings when he noticed Sebastian looking at him. He smiled a little to himself as he thought that it was the priests’ fault he was in such a contemplative mood this morning.

On the boat ride over the priest had mentioned again that he was available if Fenris ever wanted to confess anything. Fenris knew that it was his relationship with Anders that had prompted the offer this time. The healer had stayed home rather than come to the Gallows, and Sebastian had approached him to talk for the first time since he and Anders had started sleeping together.

If it weren’t for the fondness he already had for the priest and his gentle, respectful ways, he would have been irritated. He knew Sebastian was thinking of sin, but what he felt when the blonde man lay tangled against him at night was more like…solace. After having borne witness to so many horrors, both in Tevinter and here, the idea of a Chantry that would do nothing to act against those things, but would forbid what occurred between himself and the healer, made absolutely no sense to him.

But he did respect Sebastian so he just calmly refused the offer. The most interesting thing the Starkhaven prince had mentioned was that he struggled with his own sexual impulses and had to resort to prayer to control them and that he’d heard the confessions of many, many people who felt the same. He had offered this information as a way to inspire Fenris to seek the means to control his urges, having no idea that it had the opposite affect on the Tevinter.

Ever since the first night that he had bedded the healer he had been thinking of sex…it seemed almost constantly. Thinking of Anders; that spark in those honey eyes, his hair down around his shoulders, and his mouth…that _mouth_. His inability to control these thoughts had been a concern to him, wondering if something in his conditioning as a slave, combined with his newfound enjoyment of touch, had made him into some depraved creature.

Instead, it sounded as if normal people had those thoughts often, which made him feel relieved. Rather than struggle to control it as Sebastian thought he should, he felt gratified that he was starting to experience life the way people did who had never been slaves.

So Fenris was in a good mood when Hawke decided that carrying on Emeric’s investigation could wait, and instead they were going to go with Sebastian to the Harriman estate.

While it was obvious that there were strange things going on at the mansion that was hardly different from most of their adventures so his mood was still light as they made their way up to the third floor.

When they walked in on the man in a very compromising position, begging for the elf girl to use a feather, Fenris couldn’t help but think of Anders and he felt himself blushing a little. Then when Isabela spoke up and said she wanted “Felicitate me” embroidered on her blouse he actually chuckled, more from the novelty of feeling like he was in on the joke than because it was truly amusing.

Whatever the reason, his companions all looked at him with varying degrees of surprise, although none of them commented. Since the man, like the others they had found, did not seem able to hear them they decided the next place they needed to check was the basement. Hawke, Sebastian and Varric left the room first but when Isabela got to the doorway she turned and blocked his exit with a big grin on her face.

“Look at you, getting giggly. Were you imagining yourself on your knees in front of a certain feathered apostate?”

His amusement abruptly fled and he scowled down at her,

“Why, because I am the elf? You imagine I’d be the one _on my knees_ , servicing the mage?”

“As a matter of fact I do imagine that…sometimes.”

Her dusky face looked up at him as a small frown pulled her brows together,

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re just a taker and not a giver? I’d hate to be picturing you and Anders in bed together and have to feel _sorry_ for him. That just doesn’t seem right.”

Why was he even continuing this discussion? He took a menacing step forward but she refused to move out of the doorway so he growled,

“There’s no need for you to picture us at all!"

She smirked up at him, not in the least bit cowed by his manner,

“Oh, like I’m going to stop _now_. Look, I just don’t understand what your problem is with this. Hasn’t he… _felicitated_ you? Why wouldn’t you return the favor?”

She was blocking his way out, he didn’t want to hurt her, the noises from the room behind them were increasingly graphic, and somehow he had lost his ability to end the conversation. So with increasing frustration he just snapped.

“It seems…degrading.”

“Oh, but it is ok for him to be degraded? Is that really what you think?”

He felt an uncomfortable feeling of shame wash over him. The debasement of it was something he had thought of when Anders had…done that, but the healer seemed to like it. Although he didn’t understand it, he hadn’t the will to protest at the time. Fenris wasn’t going to explain any of that to the pirate so he just flushed and looked down at his feet. She raised a brow knowingly and then heaved a sigh,

“Look, Ser My-issues-have-issues, I get it, and I don’t want to argue. Think of it this way, I bet in Tevinter the slaves do all the cooking for their masters, right?”

A little puzzled by the change of subject he didn’t even think before replying,

“Yes.”

Hearing Varric calling for them to catch up she finally moved out of the doorway, walking beside him as she continued,

“Right. And where there aren’t any slaves people have to cook for themselves or pay someone to do it.”

How did the others get so far ahead already? He went down the steps two at a time and turned down the first hallway, but Isabela remained at his side, still talking,

“Just because they have to do the cooking, that doesn’t make them slaves, right?”

He knew escape was hopeless so he gritted out,

“No, it does not.”

“And sometimes people like to cook for each other. Sometimes they take turns cooking for each other, because they like it. And that still doesn’t make them slaves.”

“Is this _going_ somewhere?”

“It will if you let me finish. So…if people take turns cooking for each other...and say you cook a meal for someone that’s so good it leaves them a quivering, panting, hopeless wreck…then you may have done all the work but you’ve still got the upper hand. And that metaphor got a little bit away from me…but you still see what I mean.”

Amazingly enough he _did_ see, and as uncomfortable as the discussion had made him, he knew she was trying to be helpful. So he replied grudgingly,

“I will think on what you have said.”

Helpful she might be, he was still finished letting her poke into his personal life, so it was with some relief that he made it to the stairs leading into the basement and saw the dwarf waiting for them halfway down. When Varric saw them he chuckled and called up,

“What happened? Did Broody have to drag you away from the show upstairs?”

Isabela laughed, and gave Fenris a little wink.

“No, I was just giving our lanky friend some _food_ for thought.”

Varric looked puzzled but Fenris just groaned under his breath and kept walking. Hopefully there was something in this basement that needed killing, he’d just had all the _talking_ he could take.

~~~

When Fenris arrived back at the clinic that evening he was scratched and battered from the battle with Allure, but he was still so caught up in thoughts of what Isabela had said that having Anders fussing over him on the exam table was much more _distracting_ than it usually was.

Anders’ hands were soft, but surprisingly strong as he sought out and assessed each wound. The worst damage was a large burn on his back from one of the Rage demons, and Anders held his hands up and looked questioningly at the elf, asking permission.

He tensed for a moment, but then nodded acceptance. Although he had become accustomed to letting Anders heal him, he was never able to entirely relax when he did it. This time however, there was a thread of anticipation running through his normal tension. As the cool wash of healing magic radiated through his body and faded the scorch mark to nothing, he found himself closing his eyes, leaning into those hands while a little _hmm_ noise rumbled quietly in his throat.

When he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was the absolutely delighted smile on the healer’s face. He felt the tips of his ears grow hot and he gave the blonde a little frown. Anders managed to put a more sober expression on, but his soft brown eyes were still shining and his voice was teasing as he leaned close to the elf,

“The last of my patients left just before you came in. If you want I could put the lantern out and shut the door.”

Before the blonde was finished speaking Fenris had risen to his feet, pulling Anders into his arms and reaching up to taste the mouth that he had been thinking of all day. He brushed their lips together lightly, lingering at the edge of barely touching and teasing himself as much as the healer. Finally he parted those lips with his own and simply ravished that mouth with his tongue, until he felt Anders begin to sag against him. At that, he pulled his head back and looked up into dazed honey eyes that blinked owlishly at him before the blonde said breathlessly,

“That’s a yes then?”

He held the healer’s gaze as he nodded, and then he let him go as he turned to go into Anders room. Barely bigger than the one in the old clinic, it still consisted of nothing but the little table and chair and the cot. He had already taken his breastplate and gauntlets off to be examined, so he stood and waited in just his leggings until Anders hurried back into the room.

The healer smiled at him and removed his coat, tossing it onto the chair, and then began to work on his robes. Fenris hadn’t made up his mind yet how to proceed, so he just cleared his throat and spoke before he could lose his nerve.

“I have been thinking, and tonight I wish to take you in my mouth as you have done for me.”

Since he was watching Anders undress he clearly saw his fingers shake on the fastenings of his robe, although he tried not to appear too eager.

“I…yes, that sounds like a splendid plan.”

Ever since his conversation with Isabela he had been thinking about how he would do this _if_ he did it. Kneeling on the floor in front of the healer was out of the question. He didn’t want to assume any subservient position, but it was hard to think of a position that wasn’t subservient, which was why it was hard to imagine doing this in the first place.

He had imagined propping up pillows under Anders’ hips so that he could kneel beside him facing his feet, but now in this room, looking at the cot, he realized it was lacking both the room and pillows for such a maneuver. He scrunched up the pillow that was there, but it was far too flat to be of any use. As he pondered he realized that the tiny room had grown very still, and he glanced back over his shoulder to see Anders, now down to just his smalls, gazing at him with an understanding look on his face. The blonde reached out and caressed the back of the elf’s neck as he said quietly,

“Fenris, I appreciate the offer but we don’t have to do this if you aren’t comfortable.”

The gentle touch and the sincerity in that voice caused a tightness that he wasn’t even aware of to unclench in Fenris’ chest. When he spoke again his deep voice was even huskier with certainty,

“No, I am being ridiculous. I want to do this.”

Pulling the healer in for another embrace, he kissed him and then his fingers tweaked at the waistband of Anders' smalls,

“Remove these and lie on your back. Cross your arms behind your head and do not grab me.”

Anders grinned at him and nodded, the eagerness coming back into his face. He slipped off his small clothes and lay back on the bed, resting the back of his head on his hands as requested.

Fenris stripped off his leggings while admiring the trim form of his lover. Anders was lean, but not scrawny, his body the result of long hours either trekking after Hawke or working in the clinic. As he lay there he looked perfectly relaxed, except for the erection that was standing at perfect attention amidst a nest of blondish hair.

Looking at the long, ever-so-slightly curved cock made all of Fenris’ hesitation vanish. He wanted that in his mouth. He was going to make the healer writhe and cry out his name. A predatory smile crossed his face as he squeezed onto the cot between Anders’ legs, running his hands up the inside of his thighs.

Anders was using his crossed hands to hold his head up and watch, and Fenris’ kept his gaze locked on the blonde’s as he bent and ghosted a breath over the tip of his cock. Teasingly he nuzzled his way up the shaft with the tip of his nose, keeping his lips from barely touching. The healer’s hips twitched beneath him and he held them still in a firm grip.

He flicked his tongue out and ran it from the base of the shaft upwards, stopping to lick at the pre-cum that was gathering there. Any reservations he had about this were long gone, as he felt himself growing hard in anticipation.

He ran his tongue back down to the base, licking and sucking at the healer’s balls and making him groan and twitch his hips again. Finally he worked his way back up and took the head of that cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the top. He sealed his lips around the shaft and began bobbing his head, working his tongue along the underside and sucking as he moved his head back up.

For a short while he kept to a rhythm while Anders moans grew increasingly louder, then he moved his mouth back up to the tip while he grabbed the base of the shaft firmly with one hand. Relaxing his throat, he lowered his head again, swallowing more of the healer and then pulling up again. Twice more and he had the entire cock in his mouth, with his nose buried in that thatch of hair.

Anders gave a full body shudder and a stream of nonsense began pouring from his mouth. Fenris breathed slowly through his nose and then swallowed around him, humming deep in his throat as he did. At that Anders forgot the rules and reached down to grasp Fenris' hair, crying out for the Maker’s mercy as he did.

Fenris no longer cared. He was relishing the state of abandon he had brought the other man to, and every cry and frantic motion only increased his own excitement. He cupped the healer’s balls in his free hand and hummed and swallowed again, and when Anders arched his back and came _screaming_ his name he greedily caught every drop.

He raised his head to look down at Anders, taking in the sweat-soaked hair clinging to his brow, the chest pumping like a bellows, and most importantly, the look of blissed-out adoration that was in his eyes as he gazed back.

Fenris reached out to stroke that hair back and smiled, feeling _triumphant._


	17. Anders takes the initiative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders hates the Deep Roads, except for when he doesn't; Isabela is a sex muse even when she's absent

It could not be said strongly enough how much Anders hated the Deep Roads.

Sitting disconsolately on the stone floor of their makeshift campsite, he cast a bitter glance over at where Hawke was chatting animatedly with Sebastian. Just three weeks ago he was safe…well, maybe not _safe_ , but at least above ground in Kirkwall. Now he was down here, having rescued two of the idiot sons of some dwarf, all because said idiot sons thought following Hawke’s example was a good idea.

The big Fereldan had come tromping into the clinic and had announced that he needed Anders’ Warden skills to help with the rescue of the dwarves. The healer had every intention of refusing, but then Hawke had told him that Fenris had been there when Yevhen had asked them to go, and that when the dwarf had pressed them for a commitment he had agreed. Later, Fenris had grumpily acknowledged this to be true. So now Anders was here, again, in the taint-ridden, darkspawn-infested, Maker-forsaken Deep Roads.

Varric had been pressured into accompanying them by the Merchant’s Guild, of which Yevhrn was a member in good standing. Sebastian was here of his own free will, either because of some romantic, and nonsensical, adventure fantasy or because life in the Chantry was just that boring.

Isabella had flatly refused to come, and so she and Merrill had stayed behind. He was sure they were busy getting drunk at the Hanged Man and doing unspeakable things involving magical plant life to one another.

Anders cast a morose look at his lover, standing just a short distance away and engaged in watching Hawke trying to talk Sebastian into sparring, mostly because the big warrior wanted to show-off for Emerys and Merin. He wished Fenris would do unspeakable things to _him_. In fact, right now he would settle for having _speakable_ things done to him, because since they had come down here there had been exactly nothing done to him at all.

Which was why, although he had not previously thought it possible, he hated the Deep Roads even more than ever before.

Hawke had apparently goaded the priest into a practice bout, having kept at him about the need for a hand to hand weapon when quarters were too close for the bow. As they faced off against each other Fenris leaned his shoulder against a nearby stone abutment, watching them fight with his arms crossed and one foot casually resting against the other ankle.

Anders drank in the sight of him hungrily, thinking it was unfair that anyone could make _leaning_ look that sexy. Of course, Fenris made anything look sexy. Which was normally gratifying, but in his present, frustrated state was just irritating.

With the seven of them, plus Hawke’s mabari, all traveling and sleeping in close quarters his reserved elf had been keeping his hands, and everything else, to himself.

Back in Kirkwall they had achieved a…balance of sorts. In public, although he wasn’t exactly demonstrative, Fenris was always near the healer if he could help it. In his own reticent way he was very devoted, and to those who knew the elf at all it was obvious that there was something between them; and for those who knew him well that was remarkable in itself. In private he still wasn’t what anyone could call _romantic_ , but he was an ardent lover, and he allowed Anders to indulge in a great deal more kissing and caressing than the healer would have previously thought possible.

It was something that went beyond the physical contact though. Anders had always despised being alone; the time he had spent in solitary was the most diabolical thing the templars could have done to him. That was the main impetus behind him accepting a Fade spirit into his head, but the manifestation of Justice was so alien it only made him lonelier than before. That loneliness was what had driven him to Hawke, in part, because despite his faults Hawke was _solid_ , his presence was such that whenever he was in the room he was so definitely _there_.

Now he had Fenris, whose markings and lack of memories set him apart from his own kind as surely as having a spirit in his head. And at night he lay with his head against the elf’s chest, listening to the beating of his heart and knowing that he was no longer alone.

He didn’t know which of the elf’s many hang-ups was keeping him at arm’s length now, but it was throwing the balance of their relationship off. In fact, after a mere three weeks it was starting to seem unreal, like something that had happened in the Fade. If it weren’t for the constant puppy eyes the Tevinter sent his way he might have started to believe that nothing had ever happened between them and that just wouldn’t do.

He wished he and Fenris had stayed home like Isabela, or that the pirate had at least come along. Despite his downtrodden mood, a small smile touched his face when he thought of what a help she might be in this situation, and what a help she had been to him already.

It had not escaped his notice that every time they ventured out with Isabela she would find an opportunity to get Fenris away from the group and say something teasing, shooting Anders wicked looks all the while. The rest of them could never overhear what she said, and Fenris would always growl and brush her off, but then later that night he would suddenly have a new technique he’d want to try. His repertoire had grown in leaps and bounds, and Anders felt like he should pay off her bar tab at the very least.

Thinking of the irrepressible pirate not only made him smile, it was also inspirational. If she were here, stuck with her lover in this sexless underground, she wouldn’t just quietly accept that, so why was he?

Thus far in their relationship he had let Fenris take the lead, for obvious reasons. But by this point in the relationship he felt like he could take enough initiative to at least tell his lover that he wanted, no _needed_ some kind of physical contact.

He felt confident enough that the worst that could happen would be that the Tevinter would get annoyed and continue to not touch him until they were home. But based on the _looks_ the white-haired elf kept throwing him, he didn’t think he was alone in his frustration.

Since it had taken over two weeks to find the dwarves it was likely to be another two weeks or more before they made it home again and he knew he would never last that long. So as he sat there admiring the lanky form of his lover, he began to formulate a strategy to break down the elf’s resistance. One that he vowed to put in place that very evening.

~~~

His first assault was launched against the ears.

Anders loved, absolutely _loved_ those ridiculous, delicate, pointy, erotic ears. As for Fenris…if anything was capable of reducing him to a helpless puddle of jelly it was when the healer kissed, stroked or nibbled on those ears.

The healer began by coming up with a few random, innocuous comments that he merely happened to speak right into the elf’s ear, in a just _slightly_ breathier tone than normal. That earned him a few raised brows and assessing looks, as if Fenris were trying to decide if he were doing it on purpose. Then later he made a comment about elvhen ears in general, punctuating his statement with a casual stroke of his finger along the outer shell. That brought a little growl and a harder stare, but he didn’t miss the shiver that the elf tried to suppress.

Even that little success made him feel better; confirming the connection between them. Also, he had to admit he was enjoying this game; it had been a long time since he had set out to seduce someone, and he had forgotten what a thrill there was to be had in each incremental victory.

On to the second assault; bringing attention to his own assets.

Although he wasn’t sure what had attracted the elf to him in the first place, there were one thing he was certain that Fenris liked about him; his hair. The Tevinter was always the one who loosed it from the tie that held it back in a ponytail. Every night Anders would fall asleep to the feeling of those slender fingers carding gently through his hair.

So as he sat next to the Tevinter he absently pulled his ponytail loose and started untangling it with his fingers. He leaned forward so that the firelight glinted off the reddish-gold of his hair and finger-combed the strands in slow repetitive strokes, allowing a relaxed and dreamy look to come over his face. Fenris had been sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands resting on his thighs. Out of the corner of his eye the healer watched a gauntleted hand clench into a fist as he put on his little display.

He counted that as another gain, and for the rest of the evening he left his hair down.

As they lay down to sleep that night he noted that Fenris had placed their bedrolls so that they were touching, rather than just near each other as he had been doing. The elf had been sleeping in his armor, which was a good idea while in the Deep Roads but did not make for a cuddly bedtime companion. Tonight, however, he pulled off one of his gauntlets as they lay there, and reached out in the darkness to stroke the healer’s hair. He ran his fingers over the stubble on Anders jaw, and the blonde turned his head just enough to press a kiss into that lyrium-lined palm. He couldn’t see Fenris’ face, but he heard his deep sigh as he rolled onto his back to sleep.

Anders curled up under his own blanket, resigned to another night of nightmares, but giddy with the progress he had made regardless.

Since they were retracing the path they had taken on the way down, the area was still clear and the days were fairly uneventful. The next night they had decided to set up camp near an underground stream they had found on the way in. Fenris had slipped away to bathe, fastidious as ever and relived to have a chance to get clean again.

After judging that he had given the Tevinter enough time to finish his ablutions, Anders left the others at the camp and made his way around the bend in the stream. He arrived just as Fenris had finished donning his armor again. The elf looked up when he heard the healer approaching, and at the sight of his little half-smile and the damp white hair slicked back against his head, any thought of what he had planned for his third assault went straight out the window.

He crossed the distance between them rapidly and reached out to pull Fenris in close. By the eagerness with which the elf leaned up into his kiss he was reassured that he hadn’t been alone in his frustration. Strong, slender arms wrapped tightly around him and they stood there devouring each other, completely forgetting the proximity of their companions until the approaching voices of the dwarven brothers broke the spell.

Fenris stepped back with such obvious reluctance that Anders felt no compunction about resorting to simple begging.

“Fenris, I…I am so desperate for you right now I’m willing to rut up against your leg like Hawke’s mabari. Don’t make me go another two weeks without touching you, _please_.”

Although his answering words were cautious, the elf’s voice dropped into that register that told Anders a good shagging was imminent and he immediately started to get hard.

“We are not alone, and this is a dangerous place to go wandering off.”

Sensing victory, Anders was at his most persuasive as he leaned forward to say into Fenris’ ear.

“Just a short way back there was that little stone room, remember? We already cleared it of spiders on the way in, I can sense if any darkspawn are near, and it is close enough that we could shout for help if we needed to.”

He punctuated his argument by drawing the elf’s earlobe into his mouth and sucking on it, and when Fenris groaned he knew he had won.

The room Anders had spoken of was close enough that they made it there in no time, in spite of the fact that they could barely keep their hands to themselves or travel in a straight line the entire way. It made Anders feel like a teenaged apprentice again, and the fact that he could get his self-contained lover worked into such a state had his heart pounding in his chest and made him feel as if he could do impossible things.

He felt bold and reckless, and wanted to see how far he could push. Isabela wasn’t the only one with a list of kinky tricks at her disposal, and if Fenris was willing to learn new things, Anders would be more than happy to play teacher.

There was a crumbled pile of blocks in the corner that had once been a table, or an altar, or something similar. It still had a smooth stone surface that was only slightly askew, and it was just the right height for what Anders’ had in mind.

So as Fenris quickly unfastened his robes he began nibbling at the elf’s ears again, slipping a hand down to unfasten the leggings and palming him on the way. As he did so he murmured,

“So…this forced abstinence has given me _such_ wicked thoughts. If you’ll continue to indulge me, there’s something that I’d like to do for you.”

The Tevinter was busy trying to remove his armor with an apostate tangled around him, so he only spared him a questioning glance. Anders helped him undress as best he could without removing his lips from those ears. Once they were both naked the healer started backing them to the rockpile in the corner. Indicating the slab of stone he said,

“Just…here, I just need you to lean over and lay here so that you are on your stomach.”

Fenris stiffened a little and wariness came into his eyes as he regarded the blonde man. He licked at his lips and then spoke in a hesitant voice,

“I do not wish to be taken. I…I am not yet ready for that.”

Hearing those words, Anders felt a jolt go down his spine as if Fenris had used the ‘electricity trick’ on him. _Not yet ready_ implied that the Tevinter had been thinking about a time when he _would_ be ready. That was a thought so delightful Anders was almost willing to just cradle it in his arms and run off to have a private wank with it somewhere.

But he was a man on a mission here, so he put that thought away for later and said in a reassuring tone,

“I wasn’t even thinking of that. I have something else in mind that I promise you will enjoy.”

The white-haired elf still looked uncertain.

“I do not wish for you to use your magic either.”

Anders just smiled lasciviously at him,

“I swear the only magic I work here will be with my tongue.”

 _That_ brought a spark of curiosity into those jade eyes. Slowly the elf moved toward the rock surface, casting a glance around the room as if he had just noticed where they were.

“We are really not far from the camp. If you are your normal noisy self they will be certain to hear us”

Anders did not want his lover to start _thinking_ now that he was so close to getting what he wanted. So he stepped up behind him and wrapped him in his arms, using his height to advantage so that he could suck on the pointy tip of one ear. Within moments the Tevinter had relaxed back into his grasp, tilting his head back and gasping.

The healer gently pushed Fenris forward across the stone so that his weight was supported on his chest and stomach. He could feel the tension in the elf’s body, and when he knelt behind him he could see that enormous cock, which had been fully hard before, was softening.

Anders wanted to reassure him quickly, so as he ran his hands up the back of his thighs he leaned forward to nuzzle at the large sac between his legs. He kissed and licked, taking them in his mouth and humming, feeling Fenris slowly relax.

Continuing to do that until the elf was once again making sounds of pleasure he let his hands drift further up so that he was grasping that firm ass in his hands. He licked his way upward, and as he pulled the cheeks apart ever so slightly his tongue darted in to lap at the puckered ring of muscle.

That made Fenris start and cry out,

“Wha…”

His exclamation turned into a load groan as Anders determinedly laved at his entrance. This particular trick was something the healer had once been very good at and one that he enjoyed doing, and it didn’t take very long before Fenris was arching his back shamelessly to give him better access and pressing backwards into his tongue.

The elf was struggling not to cry out and losing the battle, as his moans got louder and louder. When Anders reached between his legs and started stroking his erection the moans turned into a full-throated roar that echoed off the walls and made Anders’ cock twitch in response. He kept circling his tongue and pumping his fist until finally Fenris shouted,

“Ah..ah..Anders!”

His legs jerked and his whole body shuddered as he came, his markings flaring so brightly the healer had to squeeze his eyes shut. Anders continued licking until Fenris put his hand back and gently pushed him away, weakly turning to his side as he did so.

At this point Anders was achingly hard, and he reached down to finish himself off but he was stopped by a gravelly “No.”

Fenris stood on trembling legs and pulled the healer up to his feet, then pushed him into a sitting position on the stone while he dropped to his knees in front of him. Anders barely had time to think about what was happening before he was swallowed up by that hot mouth. He was already so close to the edge that he was lost almost instantly, curling forward over the elf’s head and burying his hands into that soft hair.

When Fenris straightened up and kissed him they were both still shaking and sweaty and he could taste himself in the elf’s mouth. Anders didn’t trust himself to speak, because who knew what nonsense might come pouring out of him, so he just kept kissing him until finally Fenris pulled away.

Those beautiful green eyes regarded him with something that had to be affection, and the elf looked as if he might say something but then shook his head a little ruefully and leaned forward so his forehead was pressed against the healer’s. They stayed like that for a long moment and there was a hint of laughter in his voice as he finally rumbled,

“I had thought I would be able to keep you from doing foolish things, but it seems to be working the other way around.”

~~~  
They arrived back at camp to find that Emerys and Merin were cooking dinner, Sebastian was kneeling away from the fire and muttering softly to himself, Varric was polishing Bianca and Hawke was nowhere to be seen. None of them looked up when they entered except Varric, who was wearing a shit-eating grin as he said to Anders,

“Hey Blondie, I don’t know what you did but the sounds you pulled out of the elf were quite inspirational. Lucky thing I have Bianca to keep me on the straight and narrow. Otherwise I might be on my knees praying like Chantry boy, or off somewhere having a conversation with my hand, which is what I suspect Hawke is doing.”

Fenris made a grumbling sound and ignored him, going to retrieve his whetstone from his pack. Anders sat down next to the fire and tried to look innocent instead of smug as he replied,

“I have no idea what you are talking about. We were just scouting. You know, making sure there weren’t any darkspawn sneaking up on us.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Grand Cleric.”

He was saved from any further reply by Hawke’s return. The warrior walked right by and ignored him completely as he started talking to the brothers. Varric threw Anders a speaking glance and went back to polishing his crossbow.

When Fenris came back he sat down right next to the healer, close enough that their legs were touching. He looked down at his hands for a moment, and then titled his head so that he was gazing up at the healer through a fringe of white hair. He spoke softly enough that no one else could hear,

“I have been thinking about when we return to Kirkwall…I do not like you sleeping at the clinic. It isn’t smart for you to stay in the place where everyone knows to find you. So…it would be best if you were to come stay at the manor with me.”

Taken completely by surprise, Anders just stared dumbly at the elf. The fact that the intensely private elf would invite him into the only personal space he had…it put such a lump in his throat that he was having difficulty speaking. He was quiet for so long that Fenris must a taken it for a rejection, because even by firelight Anders could see a flash of hurt in those green eyes. But then the Tevinter straightened and gave him a challenging look, and his voice was pure velvet as he said,

“I see that I will have to convince you.”

So Anders held silent, because even though his answer was already a yes, he desperately wanted to be _convinced._


	18. Anders is easily convinced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris fights dirty, then he gets a little fluffy.

When Fenris had said he was going to convince Anders to move into the manor the blonde had started imaging all _sorts_ of wonderful ways he could be convinced.

During the trip back to Kirkwall, after Anders had cheekily shot down his first few arguments, the white-haired elf had quickly caught on that this was just a game that they were playing. The healer was grateful for that because he didn't really want to hurt his lover's feeling or worse, cause him to give up, when Anders had every intention of giving in. Eventually.

But what he didn't expect was that the Tevinter was going to fight _dirty_.

As soon as they got back into town, since it was still midday, Anders went straight to the clinic. Fenris begged off and said he had some things to take care of and he didn’t show up again until after Anders had closed everything up for the night.

When he did make an appearance he looked freshly washed and sweet-smelling, with his hair once again a bright white. Anders was immediately conscious of the fact that he had only been able to scrub his hands all day, and he felt like he was still covered in several weeks worth of deep roads. He thought longingly of the giant bathtub in Fenris’ manor and sighed to himself. The damn elf was not going to make this easy.

He smiled anyway and said lightly,

“Well, you’re all shined and polished aren’t you? Give me a few minutes to clean up so that I’m fit company and I’ll join you.”

Fenris just raised one smug eyebrow and silently followed him back to his room. He had grown comfortable with the Tevinter’s presence while he attended to these everyday chores, but now he felt self-conscious once again, because he knew every bit of his shabby, piecemeal existence was going on the tally Fenris was keeping in his head.

But Anders was nothing if not expert in ignoring the better choices for the poorer ones, so he just kept cheerily washing away while Fenris put on his casual, broody leaning show in the corner. It wasn’t until Anders snagged a stale roll out of a small basket he kept on his table that the white-haired elf finally broke his silence.

“You may not be aware of this, but along with a very large bathing room the manor also has a fully equipped kitchen.”

The healer chuckled as a vision of the elf pulling a loaf of bread out of an oven while dressed in his spiny armor flashed through his mind. So far, he had only ever seen Fenris either fully armored or completely naked. It was a little hard to imagine him in anything like ordinary clothing. He wasn’t sure he even owned any regular clothes, and he felt a little twinge at the thought that Fenris would never wear anything other than armor down here, because he felt himself to be on guard duty.

“Are you offering to cook for me? Because while that would be _adorable_ I just can’t see you tying an apron over your breastplate.”

Fenris scowled a little, and then sighed in vexation.

“So far I have given nothing but excellent, valid reasons for why you should move. You will be safer there at night and it is better that the people you help do not know where you sleep. The manor has more resources and despite its decrepit outward appearance it is still better living conditions than down here.”

He waved his arm in an encompassing gesture during the last statement, and then he breathed in deeply while wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“This place _stinks_. Even before I disposed of the corpses the manor still smelled better than this. I do not know why you persist in your refusal.”

Anders grinned at him and shrugged breezily.

“I have been comfortable enough in Darktown for years now, so why those _are_ good reasons, they just aren't _convincing_ enough for me to want to move to snooty old Hightown.”

Fenris shook his head in mock despair as his voice dropped a few registers.

“I can see that you will continue to be unreasonable, even when presented with unassailable logic.”

That tone of voice was usually the precursor to wonderful things and just hearing it made Anders' stomach tighten in anticipation.

So he wasn’t prepared as Fenris fidgeted uncertainly, looking down at his hands and then anywhere in the room but at him. Then the elf stepped close to him, his gaze on the floor and his shoulders drawn together, something in his posture giving him an air of vulnerability, armor or not. And Anders really wasn’t prepared when the elf tilted his head just enough to turn the full force of his enormous, liquid, _soulful_ eyes on the healer. His previous bedroom voice now sounded unsure, almost shy as he rumbled out,

“I suppose I understand why you hesitate. I know the manor is not even mine, and so it seems that I do not have much to offer you…but it is all that I have.”

Anders crumbled as if he were made of sand. Maker, those _eyes_...he looked so wounded. He had thought Fenris was playing along, he'd _never_ meant to make the elf feel like he didn't think he was good enough. Anders had already started to reach out, contrite words forming on his lips, when he spotted the tiniest twitch at the corner of Fenris' lips. The Tevinter had an almost perfect Diamondback face, but the healer had been learning to read him, and this time he managed to spot the tell.

“You...you _bastard._ You _manipulative_ bastard! You were putting me on! I actually thought your feelings were hurt. Oh, you are going to have to work _so hard_ to convince me now.”

The little twitch turned into a full smirk as Fenris just shrugged,

“It almost worked.”

Later that night Anders' got another glimpse of the underhanded tactics his devious lover was willing to employ when he fucked him through the bed. Literally.

Technically it was through the _cot_ , after Fenris had used all his so-far-acquired knowledge of the things Anders liked most to get him as wound up as possible, then proceeded to give him the most vigorous fucking of his life. So vigorous in fact, that as Anders was arching his back in surrender to the furious thrusting of the elf's hips, the normal creaking and groaning of the cot turned into a loud _crack_ as the flimsy legs gave out and snapped, sending them crashing to the floor.

Suspiciously Fenris just so happened to have one arm wrapped under the healer's chest, so as they fell he managed to keep both his feet and the other arm out to the sides so that it braced them from the fall.

As Fenris let him settle to the ground the absurdity of what had just happened suddenly struck Anders. Lying on the destroyed... _deliberately_ destroyed, he was sure, remains of his bed with a devious elf's enormous cock still lodged in his ass...once he began laughing he just couldn't stop. He shook with it, silently, tears leaking out of his eyes as he fought to pull air into his lungs. When he finally managed to breathe in again the laughter turned into actual giggles that just would...not...end.

Fenris eased out of him and just lay against his back, and when the blonde turned to catch a glimpse of him over his shoulder, the look of wary bemusement on the elf's face set him off again. _Oh maker_ his sides and stomach were hurting. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed like that.

He finally brought himself back under control, somewhat, and between the chuckles that still kept squeaking out he managed to say,

“You know, I have about a dozen more of these cots in the clinic. Did you plan on doing this until every one of them is busted?”

A quick look of chagrin passed across the elf's face, but then he leaned close to the healer's ear to say in a husky whisper,

“I have a real bed, as you well know. A big one, with a headboard, and bedposts. I think we would be much more... _comfortable_ in that bed.”

He had a point, and Anders didn't really have a counter argument. So instead of replying the healer leaned back a little and just wriggled against the still-interested hardness he could feel behind him, effectively changing the subject.

~~~

Before leaving that morning Fenris extracted a promise from him to at least visit the manor, saying that he had something to show him that he was sure would change the healer's mind.

Of course that put all _sorts_ of distracting thoughts in the healers mind, and he could hardly wait to extinguish the lantern and leave that evening.

When he arrived at the manor he walked into the front entry and paused at the bottom of the stops to call softly,

“Fenris?”

He was faintly surprised to see the Tevinter appear out of one of the hallways leading from the main room. Not that he had been a frequent visitor before, but he had never seen Fenris make use of any of the downstairs rooms. Fenris walked toward him quickly, ushering him up the stairs as he spoke.

“Here is what you are going to do. There is a chair in the middle of the room. You are going to sit on that chair and close your eyes until I tell you to open them. Do you understand me?”

Anders hadn’t really been sure what to expect when he got here, but among the things he had imagined, _sit here and keep your eyes closed_ wasn’t one of them. It had potential, but not _I’m going to chain you to the bedposts and do filthy things to you until you promise to stay_ kind of potential, which is frankly what he had been imagining ever since Fenris mentioned that his bed had bedposts.

“You know, usually when you are trying to persuade someone you do a little less ordering around and more _asking nicely_ ”

He stopped just inside the room and seemed to take in a breath as the healer walked past him. Then he said, very deliberately and with a great show of patience,

“I am asking _nicely_. Please keep your eyes closed and I think you will be pleasantly surprised.”

Anders noticed that the elf looked more disheveled than he normally did, and he was acting oddly twitchy. Fenris didn’t normally _do_ twitchy, so now he was more curious than ever. So he obediently walked over and sat in the chair, making a big show of squeezing his eyes shut and then placing his hands over them.

He heard Fenris leave the room and he thought he heard him go back down the stairs, although he always moved quietly so it was hard to be certain. He waited long enough that his arms grew tired from holding them up, so he let his hands fall into his lap although he still kept his eyes shut. Well, mostly shut. He did crack one eyelid to peek every now and again because he just couldn’t stand it.

Eventually he heard sounds that indicated Fenris was returning and he squeezed his eyes tightly again. With his eyes closed, he felt as well as heard that deep voice as he approached,

“I am going to count to three and then you may open your eyes.”

Anders smiled, but before he could respond a tiny, familiar sound made him snap his eyes open.

 _Mew_

He found himself staring into a pair of light green eyes set in a petite, furry grey face. Fenris had his hands wrapped around the kitten’s stomach and ribs and was holding it out in front of him the way Anders would have handled one of Varric’s miasmic flasks. The healer reached greedily for the little ball of fluff, and when the kitten instantly began purring and rubbing against his hands he simply melted.

A quick, polite-as-possible check told him it was a girl, not a boy. And although she did have the perfect tabby “M’s” above her eyes-which he secretly had always thought stood for “mage”, not that he would tell Fenris that-she was grey and not ginger. When he had thought about getting another kitten she was not at all what he had imagined…and she was absolutely _perfect_.

“Oh you little _darling_. Yes, that’s right. Who’s a darling? You are.”

Anders continued to coo and fuss until a loud _harrumph_ reminded him of Fenris’ presence. When he finally tore his eyes away from his precious bundle he saw that the elf was standing over him with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised so high it disappeared into his hairline. He beamed up at the Tevinter as the kitten nuzzled at his neck.

“I have to say; of all the things I thought you might do to convince me getting me a kitten was _not_ one that had occurred to me.”

The elf’s expression didn’t change, but Anders noticed a telltale flush creeping along his ears as he replied gruffly,

“I didn’t _get_ it for you. When I came back to the manor yesterday I attempted to rest, but that thing kept crawling all over me and… _purring_. It reminded me of you…”

He broke off before the healer could say anything and held his hands out in a negating gesture.

“I wasn’t thinking…I didn’t…I meant it was _annoying_ like you are.”

Nothing could wipe the smile off Anders face right then, certainly not his lover’s poor attempt to act curmudgeonly after doing something so sweet. So he just shrugged and said,

“It’s a she. And we need to think of a name for her.”

He set the cat down on his lap and sat up a little straighter so he could look her over. At a guess, he would say she was about two months old, and she looked to be in reasonably good shape. Just to be sure, he let a tiny bit of healing energy leak from his hand as he petted her, causing her to purr even louder and roll onto her back to give him access to her furry tummy.

“Let’s see, she’s got long legs, and a longer tail, and even for a kitten there is something rather elegant about her. She needs a regal name..so Lady…something. Hmm, her fur is really more silver than grey, and with the white markings I can’t help but think of moonlight…so Lady Moonpaws. Yes, that’s perfect.”

He scooped the kitten back up in his arms and held her against his chest. She immediately began batting at his feathers, while he glanced back up at Fenris. The elf had a slightly appalled expression on his face as he said,

“You can’t be serious. Why can’t you just name her something normal, like Felix?”

“What? Who would name a cat Felix?”

“In Tevinter that was a common name for cats. It means lucky, in the sense of being prosperous, and it sounds like Felis which is the Tevine word for cat.”

Anders’ answer was a bit muffled, as he was rubbing his face in the kitten’s fur.

“Well, first of all I’m not naming her anything _common_ , she’s so obviously special. Secondly, you never name pets _Lucky_. Terrible things happen to pets named Lucky, it’s just the way the world works.”

Fenris snorted and rolled his eyes a little, but he didn’t argue the point.

“I am still not calling her by that ridiculous name. I will just call her Lady.”

Anders was a little amazed that Fenris would deign to call a cat _anything_ , but he certainly wasn’t going to say that out loud. So he just replied loftily,

“Good idea, one can never be too formal with royalty.”

Fenris continued wearing the look Anders had come to recognize as ‘fond exasperation’ and as he spoke again the healer swore he could hear the smallest bit of laughter lurking in his voice,

“So you have decided you will stay here then? You don’t have to worry about a cat being eaten in Hightown”

Anders just waved his hand airily and said offhandedly,

“Of course, I couldn’t just leave her here to _annoy_ you.”

That got him another snort,

“Are you going to stay here or are you going to leave her while we are at the Hanged Man?”

Cradling the cat against him, the healer rose to his feet,

“Neither. I am bringing her along, of course.”

~~~  
A short while later they were sitting in Varric’s suite; most of the group were seated at the table while Merrill, the kitten, and Hawke’s mabari all played on the hearth in front of the fire.

No one had really been surprised to see the healer show up with a kitten. However, when he gleefully announced that Fenris had given her to him-ignoring the sharp look the elf sent him- _that_ had brought about some shocked looks. Hawke’s face looked as if he had just gotten a good whiff of the sewers, Merrill had looked delighted, Varric and even Sebastian had smiled in amusement, and Isabela…well, if Isabela said ‘Oh Fenris, a _kitten?_ ’ one more time Anders thought it likely the Tevinter would toss her down the stairs.

Once Isabela had managed to control her incredulity, Varric had a chance to ask,

“So broody, what brought about this uncharacteristic show of generosity and…fluffiness?”

Fenris shot him a irritated glower, but he must have decided he wouldn’t get any peace unless he answered so he finally said,

“I have been trying to make Anders see that it is safer for him to stay at the manor. Since he refuses to be swayed by reason I resorted to bribery.”

Hawke made disgusted noise in his throat and half under his breath he said,

“You two are just _nauseating_ ”

Then louder,

“Do you really need to bring that thing to Wicked Grace night? It’s distracting Noble.”

Anders gathered the kitten back up against his chest and replied haughtily,

“Lady Moonpaws is a _she_ not an it. And I hope Noble _is_ distracted because for once I’d like to win a game against your blasted mabari. Besides, if I want her to be an adventurer like Pounce I need to take her everywhere so she becomes accustomed to it.”

He directed his attention at Fenris, who had started giving him the ‘quirked eyebrow of amusement’ as soon as he had said her name.

“You know, now that I think of it, it’s a good thing that you found her when she was still a kitten. It’s so much harder to tame and befriend a fully grown cat once they’ve grown up feral.”

At that, those marvelous eyes softened and for once an open, affectionate smile broke over the elf’s face. Anders felt something buoyant flutter up in his chest that couldn’t be dissuaded by Isabela’s snicker or the retching sound Hawke started making. He held the kitten tighter as though she were the only thing to keep him from floating away as Fenris said in his velvet rumble,

“Somehow, I think you still would have managed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I really ended it with a kitten-I can't help it, Anders deserves ALL the kitties.
> 
> I felt like the jealousy prompt had run it's course, so this part of the story wrapped itself up here. I would like to write some more with this particular pairing and these characters in the future. In fact. I have some ideas about how the quanari invasion would go with this group-so there will be more, just not for this prompt.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading!


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